


Problem-Solving

by Zphal



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zphal/pseuds/Zphal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony can't stop working.  It's affecting his ability to eat and sleep, as well as his relationship with Pepper.  Bruce visits his friend out of concern for his health.  He doesn't expect to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"Got everything?"_

_"I didn't come with much."_

_The trunk of the Acura slams shut. A taxi horn blares at another slow driver and a bus headed for the long-term parking lot releases the air from its brakes as its door clatters open to the people gathered on the sidewalk. The small plastic wheels of their rolling baggage click over the concrete seams as they board._

_"Leaving with more than you came with though."_

_A meaningful pause. A stretching silence that conveys more than words could have if they'd been in its place. There's the low rush of air that accompanies a 747 lifting off from the runway and into the sky, bound for a faraway destination across the Atlantic._

_"Yeah. Guess I am."_

_"Keep in touch, big guy." A click-click of the billionaire's tongue is the last he hears of him before the sounds of the airport swallow him in._

His teapot was almost to boiling. There was the perceivable scent of warming copper from where the bottom of the pot was sitting on the stove's spiral heating element, and the echoing rumble of vapor bubbles forming and rising within the teakettle had reached a certain rapidity that told him soon the steam would have to force its way through the little whistle covering the spout. He had maybe six seconds more. A deep in-breath… filling his lungs enough to force his body upright and all the vertebrae of his spine straight from third lumbar to first thoracic--

Ringing disturbed his meditation before the teakettle.

Bruce's eyes popped open, pupils dilating quickly to adjust to the light in the room. They honed in on the source of the sound, a recording of the real thing emitted from the stereo speakers of his laptop sitting on his workdesk. A small telephone icon was bouncing enthusiastically in the Skype window, and above it a profile picture of the arc reactor.

It was a disturbance he didn't mind. The teakettle began to whistle. Bruce stood from the mat he'd been seated on cross-legged and hastened over to his computer, clicking to 'pick up' the phone call. An indicator spun for a couple of seconds before the connection was established and Tony Stark appeared in all his fuzzy, pixelated glory on his screen.

"Hey," Bruce greeted quickly, "Give me a second."

"My God, what an opener," the innovator's brown eyes rolled dramatically as Bruce turned and hurried to the kitchen to grab the pot off the stove. He took a lot longer than his 'estimated' second in removing a teabag from its pouch and carefully pouring steaming water into the cup with it. Bruce went ahead and carried it with him back over to the workdesk, setting it aside to steep as he settled into the wicker chair in front of his laptop.

" _Finally_ ," Tony said with undue exaggeration, "I had half a mind to hang up."

"Did you?" Bruce challenged with interest. He pulled his reading glasses out of his front pocket to perch them on his nose.

"No, but I said it anyway. Who are you to call me out on it? Maybe I'm really busy."

Bruce took a short moment to study the amount of cluttered workspace currently surrounding the man on the other side of the globe. "You look like you've been busy."

The engineer leaned back in his swivel chair and let out a groan befitting a teenager told to get out of bed for school-- though the audio blipped for a fraction of a second in the middle. "Beyond busy," Tony answered, "but for the love of integrated circuits, let's not talk about that. How've you been?" he diverted with a tired smile, and only then did the feed give the doctor a clear enough picture to see the dark circles under the other man's eyes.

Bruce hummed softly, turning his attention away from the screen less to dip the teabag up and down in the hot water and more to avoid Tony's gaze for the moment. "Warm."

"Well no duh," Tony snarked, "It's Kolkata at the onset of summer. Tell me something I _don't_ know. Or at least something I can't make an educated guess about." He skipped half a beat and sat forward in his seat once again. "You _are_ still in Kolkata, aren't you?"

"I am," Bruce nodded. All of Tony's gadgetry should have been able to pinpoint his exact global coordinates down to the fourth decimal place, so either the billionaire was being coy or he actually hadn't checked in a bow of respect to the physicist's admittedly veneered privacy. He brought his drink to his lips to blow on the surface, the steam fogging his lenses somewhat.

Tony's hands shot out to either side in exasperated gesture, "And yet you're drinking hot tea. I will never understand you."

"I'm glad you don't," the physicist replied candidly, "You lose interest in things you completely understand."

The innovator gave a scoff, but it was a tickled scoff that wasn't followed immediately by the smart comebacks that so typically ran off the sharp-witted tongue. "It's been too long since we last talked, doc…" Tony said, and Bruce heard the hollow note of longing in his voice that heightened the sincerity of the statement.

It was either that or the scalding of his throat that kept Bruce from responding immediately. He grimaced and set the cup down to give it more time to cool and for the spices to permeate the liquid. "Sorry," he expressed softly.

"No, no!" Tony hurried to retract the implication, waving both his palms out in front of him fast enough to blur them since the visuals couldn't keep up, "We're both busy guys, I understand. And you… what with the uh… lack of technology out there…" he began to mutter under his breath, "…probably lucky to have electricity…"

"It's Kolkata, not 'Outer Mongolia'," Bruce chuckled. Still, he was connected to the internet via a satellite set-up he'd rigged and calibrated himself. The parts weren't readily available.

"Then why not set up central air conditioning??" Tony asked without a hint of seriousness. "You'd have the coolest shack in the village." Bruce just shook his head and tried very hard not to laugh. Eventually Tony's jokester grin evaporated, replaced with a difficult half-sided smirk that also tugged inward on the space between his eyebrows. "So you still haven't actually told me how you've been," the engineer pressed.

Bruce's lips pursed worriedly a moment. One thing he'd noticed about talking to people over the years was that often when someone asked 'How are you?', it wasn't so much that they wanted to know how you were as they wanted to be asked the question back. Often times it wasn't even intentional, a subconscious plea to be heard being expressed under the guise of 'small talk'.

Bruce took this into account as he phrased his response. "Well enough. A new strain of Typhoid fever recently swept through the populace, though the outbreak is nearly contained now. It's difficult to see people suffering despite the fact that if no one ever came down with anything, I wouldn't be able to support myself." Tony seemed to nod to this; the doctor went on. "But at least they know they can come to me and I can help them get better."

Tony blinked. The sort of blink that said the man got the idea Bruce wasn't just talking about the locals. Despite it, he forged on. "Well that's good. That you're there for them, not that they're getting sick," Tony corrected, and he immediately reversed gears a second time, "But not that you don't have income if they're not getting sick-- you know what I mean."

The innovator obviously wasn't going to say it himself, so Bruce would have to take the initiative himself. "And what about you, Tony?" he asked, interrupting the engineer's would-be babble.

"I what? Oh," Tony cleared his throat at the sudden switch in topic, "Well, like you surmised: busy."

"Yeah?" Bruce made a show of glancing at the analog watch on his wrist. "It's what, 5:48 AM over there?" he made the guess without needing confirmation-- he already knew Malibu was twelve and a half hours behind. "You're dressed and I don't see any coffee," he observed, "so I don't think you woke up to call me."

The engineer's shoulders slumped as if he'd been caught and, now that the cat was out of the bag, the man allowed himself to aggressively rub his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. "Yeah, I've been up a little late. I was gonna turn in once we got off the phone," he tried as if Bruce would buy into that lie, and at the doctor's gradually broadening frown, Tony only sought to add on in attempt to allieviate his concern, "I caught a couple hour nap earlier around noon and um… before that…" he tapped absently at his thigh, "three AM…"

"So you didn't sleep last night either," Bruce deciphered in a deadpan.

Tony's eyes winced shut. "Fine. Yes, I can't sleep, okay? But there's a good goddamn reason I can't sleep, _alright?_ " the engineer's tone turned to an almost accusing one.

"And what is it?" the physicist asked simply, not deterred by the snappishness of the reply.

The short burst of anger siphoned right out of the other scientist, like the energy that had been there that split second was already depleted. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, bringing Bruce's attention to the scruff that was cropping up all over Tony's neck and cheeks, almost obscuring the Van Dyke he ordinarily sported-- he'd probably showered and shaved as recently as he'd had a full night's sleep if the doctor had to guess. "Work…" Tony answered with the dullness of a man over-burdened nearly beyond his limits. "That's all. Just work."

Bruce leaned back in his chair, pushing his glasses up his nose. He picked his cup back up and took a long sip. "What kind of work?" he inquired with all the air of curiousness a fellow scientist would display.

"Prototypes, mostly," Tony's face was still a grimace, pinching at the bridge of his nose as he motioned with his other hand. "New models, different versions, modifications, fixes…"

"The suit," Bruce questioned seriously.

The engineer on the other end shut his eyes. "Yeah. The suit," he sighed, sagging into his own arms defeatedly.

No wonder Tony hadn't wanted to talk about this. The battle in New York had rattled all of them significantly. Just knowing there were things out there that had dangerous weaponry and powers… Internal global conflicts between nations and their peoples was enough without the unknown 'threats' of worlds beyond their own. It was all variables and no constants, impossible to account for them all. For a physicist, such as himself, he could handle having to make a few assumptions where there weren't exact answers. But Tony was an engineer. Engineers were, by nature, problem-solvers, and one thing they _couldn't_ do was ignore a problem.

Bruce spoke to the man bluntly, "Tony, if you keep this up, you're going to kill yourself."

Tony shook his head and jabbed the desk in front of him. "If I don't keep this up, a lot of people are going to get killed," he corrected, his eyes hard.

"So a few more people die. A lot of people die meaningless deaths every day," Bruce continued to be firm. The words seemed to stun Tony for a moment, since they were being used by the humanitarianist of the two of them. "From starvation, from disease, natural disasters, stupid accidents," he listed off with a shrug, "and there's nothing you or I can do about it." Tony's mouth opened but Bruce continued before he could start, "And even in the off-chance we _can_ , what, we save them now so they can die some other way later?"

Tony's eyes shut again, looking pained. The computer display shuddered.

"Listen…" Bruce's voice softened slightly, "I know it's difficult to accept, but it's not worth killing yourself over. You're no good to anyone dead."

"It's just a few extra hours a night," Tony protested.

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?" the physicist asked. The other scientist's unkempt appearance had to be even more glaring in the flesh than it was on his monitor.

Tony's eyes wandered briefly over to his own picture in the bottom right corner of the Skype window. He gave a laugh. "No offense, big guy, but you're about the last person on earth who I'm gonna take grooming advice from."

Considering his curls were saturated with sweat from an afternoon spent working in a poorly-ventilated, too-crowded building of feverish patients, Bruce couldn't hardly blame him on that count. "Then take this advice instead: go to bed and don't get out of bed until you've gotten at least six hours of rest. Time spent tossing and turning or lying awake doesn't count. And when you do get up, take a long shower, get cleaned up and put on some fresh clothes. Eat a solid, healthy breakfast. _Take tomorrow off_ ," he stressed.

The innovator's jaw set like he wanted to argue but he gave a tight nod.

Bruce paused to think a moment. Even if Tony did as he said, it was nothing more than a quick fix, a reset before Tony went and trashed himself all over again. He addressed him again through the built-in camera on his laptop, "Is there anything you can think of that would get you to stop working so much?"

The answer came a lot quicker than Bruce expected. "Well you could come visit," Tony said, and it seemed the words surprised him too for the way his vision flinched away for a split instant.

There was a long pause between both men before the doctor chased away the silence, "Would that really get you to sleep?"

The billionaire lifted his arm to rub the back of his neck. "…Well, it might distract me enough I could…" he gave off an aura of guilt, like he felt bad for even asking.

Bruce took a deep, almost meditative breath in through his nostrils. A trip out to the States was never his safest bet, nor could he be of much use there. Though the latter of those two truths might be compromisable in this instance… considering the state of the man he was talking to. Tony caught his line of sight again through the long-distance connection-- he looked like he was steeling himself for the inevitable 'No'.

Bruce let his gaze fall as he made the difficult decision. "If you buy me a ticket out of Netaji Subhas, I'll come visit," he said.

Tony's already wide eyes bugged wider. "You're serious??"

"I can't really afford a flight myself right now--" the doctor began to explain.

"No, no!" Tony cut him off, almost jumping out of his chair with renewed exuberance, "I mean, you're serious? You'll really come?"

The physicist nodded, "Yeah, I'll come."

Tony was already on the move, eyes darting to another screen beside him. "JARVIS, find me the soonest flight out of CCU that's headed to LAX."

"Tony," Bruce was the one to interrupt this time and the engineer gave him a confused, worried look that said he was afraid Bruce was about to take his promise right back. "There's some things I have to get in order here first before I can go. I'm going to need a couple of days…"

"Forty-eight hours it is," Tony settled with an agreeable grin. "No need to worry about booking a hotel-- we've got a guestroom with your name on it." He pointed with his index finger, thumb extended. "I'll shoot your travel information over to you right in the morning-- after I sleep, of course," he tacked on. "Nighty night, Brucie!"

The physicist chuckled at the other man's antics and his very literal interpretation of time frame. "Goodnight, Tony," he returned with a smile. The connection was cut and the other scientist dropped off being set to 'online'.

Bruce closed his laptop and spent the next few minutes consuming his tea with his legs crossed over one another. He'd need to pack a few things and get someone to look after his place while he was gone… however long he was going to be gone for… that part of the bargain hadn't been struck-- Tony had hung up too fast to discuss it, whether intentionally or not.

Regardless, Bruce couldn't help but feel an inkling of the enthusiasm displayed by the man. It would be good to finally see his friend again.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Dr. Bruce Banner." The vibrant orange of her hair is only outshone by her viridian eyes as she takes his hand and shakes it, not with the delicateness her thin frame suggests but firmly like she intends him to remember this first impression. Though his hand engulfs hers, it doesn't detract from the business-like air she commands as she motions at him to take a seat in her partially-wrecked office. "Please, sit down."_

_The cushioning and support the ergonomic swivel chair provides is by far the most comfortable thing he can recall sitting in in a long, long time-- he settles into it with a soft sigh, propping his elbows on the rests. Behind him water trickles down the rock surface of the indoor waterfall, conveying a tranquil ambiance the rest of the room can't really display, considering the shattered glass on the floor and the support beam protruding through the east wall. She's so calm and cavalier about it he has to think this isn't new to her._

_"I believe a 'thank you' is in order."_

_The statement brings his attention to the dryness of his lips. Burnt and cracked much like the city streets thirty floors below them. He wets them, slowly and deliberately. "And… why would that be, Miss Potts?"_

_The far-away wail of a siren accentuates her response. "This isn't the first time my boyfriend has tried to get himself killed."_

_The Newton's Cradle in near-perpetual penduluming motion on the desk in front of him is almost noiseless, but several clacks elapse before the silence is broken._

_"I wasn't the one who saved Mr. Stark. The Other Guy made that call."_

_Her chair squeaks as she leans back in it. "Well. I very much doubt I'll have a chance to thank him in person. So would you thank him for me, next time you see him?"_

_"I'll pass the word on."_

_Her vermillion lips pull into a smile._

The fasten seatbelt sign dinged on overhead. The sound was nearly drowned out by the constant low rumble inside the fuselage as it cut through the air at five hundred miles an hour. To either side he could hear the slats and spoilers readjust with a mechanical whir, and he could feel the subtle change in pressure pressing against his eardrums that told him they'd begun their descent from thirty-thousand feet. It would be an hour yet before they landed, but Bruce allowed his eyes to flutter open and his meditative breathing to stop.

"Any last refreshments I can get for you, Mr. Banner?" the stewardress inquired.

"No, no thank you," Bruce declined politely. The woman had been taking excellent care of him during the twenty-one hours they'd been in the air. She nodded and went off to attend to other flyers. Bruce couldn't be sure if it had been Tony or Pepper who'd booked his travel arrangements, but either way he was indebted to one of them for putting him in first class on a non-stop flight. It was spacious and quiet and he could relax, despite his typical qualms about flying 'with the Other Guy'.

Bruce removed his current reading material-- _Emerging Nanorobotics_ \-- from his duffel bag and cracked it open where he'd left off. It was a bit of a dense anthology, but the subject matter was absolutely intriguing, especially the medical applications of such a forseeable technology. He adjusted his spectacles and dug in.

The hour passed just like that.

He shut the book and watched out the window as they taxied up to the gate. Here he was, back on American soil less than a year from the last time. Though this time there weren't any gamma-emitting cubes to locate or rampaging aliens to smash. There was only one man who needed his attention and Bruce hoped he could be of help. The fasten seatbelt indicator blipped off and the lights came up in the cabin; Bruce rose to grab his other bag out of the overhead bin and proceeded to the door of the aircraft. The stewards thanked him for flying with them as he disembarked out to the jetway.

The LAX airport was crowded as it usually was this time of morning, the waiting areas packed to the point where people had to sit on the floor or on their baggage, the lines for snack booths and magazine kiosks intruding out into the walkspace. The chatter of business people conversing on their cellphones was omnipresent, and airport announcements sang out through speakers prefaced with a chime. The hubbub didn't bother him though. Bruce paused momentarily after he'd cleared the gate to reset his wristwatch to the appropriate hour-- 9:22 AM. The jetlag was going to be fairly severe, but he had at least caught some Zs during the flight to keep him going for awhile.

He kept his eyes alert as he left the gates behind him and followed the signs for the exit. When he reached the pick-up point he spotted Virginia Potts and her bodyguard, Harold Hogan, waiting for him. The former was wearing a business suit and skirt and heels, her hair drawn back into a bun save the bangs over her forehead. The latter was holding up a sign with the Stark Industries logo emblazoned across it, just in case he otherwise missed them. Bruce chuckled gently under his breath, chagrinned; part of him had hoped Tony would be there to pick him up, since the engineer had personally seen him off. Slight disappointment aside, he proceeded over to his chauffeurs.

"Dr. Banner, so good to see you've arrived," the woman greeted. Her handshake was exactly as he remembered it. "How was your flight?"

Bruce nodded his head in deference. "Very comfortable. Thank you, Miss Potts."

She smiled and turned to the bodyguard on her left. "Happy, would you go fetch the doctor's bags from the carosel while we grab a quick cup of coffee? We'll meet you at the car."

"I'll get right on it," Harold turned from them to attend to his task.

Bruce hummed softly as he and Pepper walked side-by-side towards the coffee pavilion. No doubt with him around she felt safe enough to be without her escort, though the concept amused Bruce since, if provoked, the Other Guy would tear the airport to shreds and likely inadvertantly crush her in the debris. Still, he appreciated the gesture of trust.

Shortly each of them had a coffee in hand and they found a small round table to themselves. "I'm glad that you're here, doctor," Pepper spoke as she sat; the words piqued Bruce's curiosity but he remained quiet as she continued her thought, "I'm sorry Tony couldn't make it out… by eight o'clock this morning he was still down in the lab." She rolled her eyes. "I figured _someone_ ought to be here to pick you up."

Though her choice of words expressed exasperation, the actual feeling Bruce discerned behind them was pointedly different. He took a sip of his drink through the small hole in the top of the plastic cover and set it down. "Can you tell me how long he's been doing this for?"

Pepper's thin lips drew thinner. She avoided his gaze. "It's been several weeks… and… growing more severe." Her calendar-accurate memory kicked in, "Back in January he told me we needed to double our orders for raw materials, and in March he had me double _that_. He's been cancelling important business meetings and public appearances…" Pepper shook her head. "He's done this kind of thing before, but never… never quite like this. I… I've been just about at wit's end…" Her eyes threatened to water, and realizing it, she stoically kept the tears from forming, breathing in deeply through her nose.

Bruce frowned, troubled by the news but not surprised. But he got the distinct feeling that sleep wasn't the only thing Tony had been neglecting. He looked back up at the woman who was shakily taking a sip of her beverage in an effort to remain collected. He spoke, "It's always going to be Tony's nature to work." His lips pursed before going on, "But sometimes our inner nature gets the best of us."

The redhead studied him, parsing those words carefully. "And sometimes it brings out the best in us," she followed up.

Bruce let out a soft self-conscious chuckle, rubbing his thumb along the coffee cup's paper seam. That sounded like something Tony would say, in regards to the Other Guy. They both couldn't get it through their heads that he and the Hulk were two different people sharing the same genetic code. He drummed his fingers on the table. "That may be the truth in Tony's case," he responded, redirecting the conversation to where it belonged. "I know his intentions are good and that he thinks he's making the right call doing what he's doing, but he needs to remember his body has limits. He can't keep this up. Not for any length of time."

Pepper nodded to all of it. "I hope you can talk some sense into him." It seemed to imply that she had tried, with little success.

"I can't guarantee anything," Bruce prefaced, "but I'll try."

They sat awhile, consuming their hot beverages. It had been a good suggestion on the CEO's part. The caffiene was chasing away the fuzziness that had settled in the cracks of his brain, making his synapses fire more quickly and efficiently. He held the warm liquid on his tongue a moment before swallowing. It was sweeter than the stuff he'd grown used to while in India.

"Tony's been really looking forward to this visit," Pepper broke the silence again, causing him to look up.

"I… gathered," the physicist chuckled, recalling the other scientist's excitement during the internet call. "I'm sure he has lots of things he'd like to show me." 'Candyland', wasn't that how he'd put it on the helicarrier when he invited him to Stark Tower? Tony hadn't even attempted to disguise the notion that he was just a big kid who wanted to show Bruce all the cool toys he had in his room. It brought a brief smile to his lips.

"It means a lot more to him than getting to show you his recent projects, doctor," the woman said, and her matter-of-factness struck him in more ways than one-- he got the feeling they weren't just chatting over coffee anymore. Pepper leaned towards him, setting her elbows against the surface of the table so she could give him a hard stare across it. "He considers you a very dear friend."

Bruce poked at the inside of his mouth with his tongue. He knew that. Despite their brief time together May of last year, a camaraderie had been established between them, bridging their differences and solidifying their similarities. They'd 'clicked' on so many levels it had been impossible not to form a bond as they crunched out a tracking algorithm in the little laboratory Fury had provided them. But he could understand Pepper's concern. He gazed back at her. "Trust me, Miss Potts, if Tony weren't a dear friend to me as well, I wouldn't be here."

She drew back with a nod, satisfied by the answer. "Good." The CEO's tone softened as she took another drink and set it down. "Well, shall we head over to the house now?"

"That sounds good to me," Bruce nodded and the two of them rose from the table.

\--

The guestroom had paned glass along the entire west-facing wall, giving a gorgeous panorama of the Pacific ocean. The waves were glittering, refracting sunlight from the current angle of solar noon. He could spot a couple sailboats out in the distance, white triangular sails billowed in the breeze. Cumulus clouds hung in the sky.

"Quite the view, isn't it?" Pepper said as she came in behind him; she folded her hands politely in front of her as Happy deposited Dr. Banner's belongings on the Queen-sized bed.

Bruce nodded, not taking his eyes away just yet. "You and Mr. Stark reside here most of the year?" he inquired, turning to look back at her.

Her chin bobbed, but she looked a little wistful. "Yes, mostly. Our office in L.A. was being outgrown little-by-little. We decided to expand out into the New York area. It was more convenient for some of our clientele and investors."

"Makes sense," Bruce said as he ambled to explore the rest of his quarters. He had a walk-in closet and a private washroom with both shower and tub. A plasma screen TV. A full length mirror. It was five star accommodation. Too nice for him, really. He removed his blazer and selected a hangar to drape it over. He paused thoughtfully in the doorway, re-evaluating what the woman had just said. "You two made the decision together?"

That brought a little laugh from her chest. "Well, Mr. Stark trusts my managerial expertise."

"I see," he responded.

Pepper shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm sorry," Bruce apologized suddenly, wringing his hands, "If you have somewhere you need to be…"

"Oh there's always plenty to do around here," Pepper joked dryly, though he didn't doubt it for an instant with the size of company she was in charge of. "But making sure you were comfortable was one of this morning's top priorities."

"Everything's perfect," he assured her and it brought another brief smile to her vermillion lips.

"Then I'll let you settle in," she said, excusing herself. "Tony's in the basement, when you want to see him. He already gave you your own access code for the lab."

Bruce's brow drew down. "Wait, what is it?" he stopped her before she could go.

The redhead smirked. "He said you'd figure that out."


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce unbuttoned his cuffs, eying the touch-screen keypad beside the door as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. He enjoyed the occasional puzzle-- a sudoku or crossword to get his mind rolling-- but even the most advanced puzzle typically came with hints. He asked himself what he already knew, or rather, what Tony knew he knew as he removed his glasses from his front pocket and committed them to his face. He leaned in and chose a random string of numbers with the pad of his middle finger.

It was rejected immediately of course, but it gave him the info that the code he was looking for was six digits long.

Bruce hummed, folding his arms. He tried to recall if there was any particular piece of their algorithm that would make sense here, but nothing really stood out. Maybe it was a date… month, day, year? He tried the day they met as well as the day he left with no success, the panel flashing a red capitalized 'DENIED' at him. What else? Was there any possibility Tony would've used something he'd said during their talk on the phone?

The phone. Numbers corresponded to letters on each button. Bruce snapped his fingers a few times out in front of him, making the motion as if he were attempting to kindle a fire in his head. What would Tony spell out that was six letters long?

Not _six_ letters long, he realized. _Two_ words that were _three_ letters long.

Bruce keyed in 244-489 (BIG-GUY) and felt a pleased grin overtake his features when a green 'GRANTED' lit up and the door unlatched. He grabbed the handle and let himself in.

Now on the other side of the soundproof glass, his ears were filled with the cacophony of metal on metal… being hammered, rivetted, drilled through and medley of other things Bruce couldn't discern from the echos. Though the layout of the lab was unknown to him and dozens of projects in states of semi-completion were scattered willy-nilly creating labyrinthian pathways, he managed to follow the noise to its current source. Doing so led him right to Tony, who was currently hunched over the guts of one of his suits, yanking out parts he clearly wasn't very happy with. The engineer was oblivious to his presence at the moment. Bruce crossed his arms and leaned back into one of the work desks, taking the opportunity to quietly observe from afar. A few sparks flew and Tony spat out a curse as he yanked back his right hand. He put the injured finger to his mouth and reached into his toolbox with his other hand, scrounging impatiently for what he needed next; a few things clattered to the ground.

The physicist frowned, registering another sound at the peripheral of his hearing range. It sounded like a bumping… scratching noise. His eyes searched around for it and spotted a vintage record player-- a gramophone, to be precise, from the large bell angled to fill the room with music. The corners of his lips quirked; how quaint. He didn't know the innovator had an interest in old technology as well as new. The device was still on, turning the vinyl record round and round, but the needle had reached the end of the grooves and fallen off, creating the bumping he'd been hearing.

Bruce walked over to it and flicked it off, removing the phonograph record from the pin to study the label in the center. AC/DC. Of course. "Hey, you want me to flip this to the other side, or…?" he left the question open.

Tony dropped about three other tools to the ground. "Bruce! Ohmygod. You're here!" he exclaimed, abandoning his work to hurry over to him. He stopped about three feet away, glancing down at the vinyl record he was holding carefully by the edges; the engineer gave a sheepish laugh, "I didn't even hear it stop. I was kind of… emersed," he gestured emptily at the room. He reached out and nabbed the protective paper sleeve from the nearby rack, pushing on the top and bottom just enough to get it to flare open; Bruce slid the record into it.

Tony re-racked the disc and looked at him with big brown eyes. They were ringed with red and bloodshot like he'd been up since the day before, but they were what Bruce would categorize as 'puppy-eyes' nonetheless. "But you're really here? I'm not dreaming?" he went on.

Bruce chuckled. "No, you're not dreaming, Tony. You'd have to be asleep to be dreaming," he pointed out. Though he could understand the other scientist's uncertainty-- it wouldn't be too far-fetched to conclude he'd passed out from physical exhaustion at the work bench or wherever. He'd probably done so in the past when his body simply refused to go on any longer.

"Guess you're right about that one," Tony took it back, hooking his toes on a nearby stool and pulling it to him, the rubber feet of the chair scraping along the concrete floor. "And I haven't been doing much of that," he added as he plopped down on the round black leather cushion. He gestured at the physicist. "Find a seat. Seriously, anywhere's free game if there's not crap on it."

Bruce didn't bother searching. "I'm fine standing," he said as he once again leaned his rear end against a work desk. Instead he studied the man across from him. From the state of his gel-stiffened locks and facial hair, Bruce could tell Tony had taken at least part of his advice from a couple of days ago and showered and shaved, so there was that. But a lot about him didn't look as healthy as Bruce remembered last time they'd been face-to-face in New York… his skin had developed a pallor that contrasted sharply with the black tank currently thrown over his top half (it was also inside-out, the doctor noticed) and he'd been neglecting meals if the slight hollow to his cheeks and thinner frame was any indicator.

Tony didn't take note of his scrutinizing gaze, in fact it looked like he was on the verge of asking a million questions all at once. If his mouth was capable of vocalizing them all simultaneously, Bruce had no doubt he would've; instead he had to settle for one at a time. "So you made it in. To the lab, I mean," Tony clarified, a mischievous little grin on his features. "How long did that take?"

His smile was infectious. "Not too long," Bruce answered.

"Of course not," Tony waved him off as if he'd expected no less. "I wanted you to be able to get in after all. If I didn't, believe me, you'd still be out there." His own words seemed to stop him in his tracks; he blinked twice. "Shit, I didn't leave you stranded at the airport, did I? Did you have to take a taxi?" His voice turned rapidly apologetic, "I meant to come… really. I just got so involved and I completely lost track of time--"

"Oh, no no," Bruce interrupted before he could get too far, "Pepper came and got me. I didn't have to wait at all."

"Thank God," the engineer let out a loud sigh, deflating back into his chair with relief. "I tell you, she's a real lifesaver," the man said with an effervescent smile. "I don't know what I'd do without her."

Bruce considered that sentiment to himself privately. Tony seemed rather oblivious to the pain and worry he had been causing the woman as of late, as if all his late nights and isolation weren't having a negative effect on their relationship. As important as the company and their joint careers were to the both of them, it was still necessary to cultivate moments together to keep their relationship strong and healthy-- Bruce had learned that back when he was dating Betty long ago. Tony hadn't been keeping up his side of the bargain.

"So then… what time _is_ it, anyway?" the engineer asked, jarring Bruce out of his thoughts. Down in the lab it was impossible to tell whether it was even day or night, since it was underground and lit entirely by fluorescents.

Bruce checked his watch. "Eleven-ten." When Tony continued to look at him expectantly, he added, "AM." How long _had_ he been down here? Bruce wondered.

"Perfect!" Tony bounced up from his stool. "You hungry? We can go grab a bite to eat." He hooked his thumb to the north, "There's this awesome fish and chips place down the highway just a couple of miles. Afterwards we can hang out at the beach, catch a few rays."

The suggestion brought warmth to his chest, spreading to his face. Of course it was his professional opinion what the innovator needed most was more rest, but Bruce recognized how much luck he'd have in convincing Tony to lie down. Especially now that he'd just gotten here. "Yeah, all of that sounds enjoyable," he accepted the offer. It would do his friend a lot of good to get out of the laboratory for a few solid hours, and his skin would get some Vitamin D that he desperately needed. It might not be rest for his body, but it would be rest for his mind, and that was just as important. Bruce considered asking if they should invite Pepper along as well, but she _had_ indicated she had things to do that afternoon, and it was probably better if Bruce tackled one problem at a time.

"You bring trunks?" the billionaire asked then.

Bruce laughed at the absurdity of the notion that he even owned a pair to bring. "No, I didn't."

Tony tsk'd. "That's alright, I'll let you borrow a pair of mine."

\--

Tony gave him more than just a pair of swimtrunks.

In fact the Malibu-ite had transformed him into the spitting image of a local resident… thong sandals, a woody-wagon-and-surfboard print Aloha shirt, and a pair of shades. He would've felt silly and gimicky… if it weren't for the fact that the fully-grown, middle-aged man behind the wheel of the convertible mustang was sporting exactly the same ensemble.

The salty air licked his curls as they sped along down Highway 1 in fourth gear at forty-three miles an hour. It was a good cruising speed-- got them where they were going while simultaneously providing a nice view of the scenery; Tony was having a splendid time pointing out all the landmarks to him as they zoomed past. Of course Bruce had been to a lot of destinations and seen his share of tropical landscapes. It wasn't anything remarkable in that sense. What really made it special was the company he was keeping. Bruce felt himself smile as Tony went off on a tangent about a small business in the area that was developing and distributing tools to harness tidal power as a renewable energy source (to which he'd also sent a 'modest donation' in support of their cause); the guy seriously had an unending ability to talk, as if there was a direct channel from his brain to his mouth, provided, of course, the right person was there to listen.

"Oh, here it is!" Tony interrupted himself, pulling his foot off the gas to decelerate. They'd gotten to the restaurant. It wasn't much, just a small property on the beach side of the street-- probably hadn't been renovated in thirty years if the sun-bleached paint was any indication-- with a cramped little parking lot and a sign that said 'Paradise Cove Cafe'. Hyperbole likely, but Bruce had learned that sometimes flawed things were the best things, the things that left a lasting impression. The billionaire pulled between the faded yellow lines of the last available spot and cut the engine.

The two of them entered the joint and Bruce removed his sunglasses to look over the menu above the counter. Battered seafood was definitely their speciality; besides cod they had prawns and scallops and calamari and oysters and popcorn shrimp, all jumbled in different combinations #1–10.

"I always go for a number four myself," Tony spoke off-handedly, propping his shades in his hair.

"Four looks good," Bruce agreed.

The other scientist's eyes sparkled. He all but skipped up to the counter and placed their order for two #4s, sliding a twenty to the cashier. He took all of the change and dumped it into the styrofoam tip cup. It was only a few minutes before their meals were ready, hot from the fryer and cradled in red checkered wax paper and a plastic basket. "Enjoy," the employee imparted as she handed them their baskets.

"Already know I will," Tony flashed a charming smile the girl's way. The two of them went to go find a place to sit outside under one of the umbrella tables and dug in. The batter on the shrimp was fluffy, crispy and _deliciously_ greasy. In India, cooking most of his own meals, Bruce had followed a strict regimen about what he ate. This _definitely_ wasn't within the boundries of said diet.

"Good, right? What'd I say?" Tony said, licking his fingertips clean.

His mouth was full, so Bruce nodded in agreement. He grabbed for his glass bottle of Coca-Cola and narrowed his eyes on the top of it, noticing it didn't have a screw-cap. He didn't have a bottle-opener handy…

Tony made a noise, spotting his dilemma. "Like this," the engineer grabbed his own. He positioned the ridge of the bottlecap on the edge of the table and gave it a good hard tap with his other hand. The cap flew off and a cool waft of vapor rose from the inside of the beverage. Bruce marvelled at the simplistic use of the wedge before replicating the procedure himself. "Trick Dad used to use," Tony said.

"Works like a charm," Bruce commented, taking a long draw. Problem-solver indeed.

"Yeah," Tony spoke through a mouthful of fish, not showing the same politeness Bruce had, "Dad had a lot of things figured out."

Bruce sensed their conversation had taken a slightly more serious turn. He decided to pursue the topic, "Such as?"

The innovator chuckled half-heartedly, looking away from his food for a moment and then looking back at Bruce. "Well for one how to 'keep calm and carry on'." He gestured with a hand, "Guy was smack-dab in the middle of World War II. Do you think he ever lost a wink of sleep?"

Bruce absently sucked on one of his teeth where a food particle had lodged. Better question for Rogers. "Did he?" Bruce posed back, questioning the question.

"I don't know," Tony gave an exasperated motion of his hands before flopping them back down into his lap. He shook his head.

Bruce hummed, picking up a couple of fries to stick them in his mouth and chew. He didn't know what to the tell the other man about his father, but he could offer something else. He swallowed before speaking. "Well, I've got a few methods for keeping calm, if you wanted me to show you," he ventured, though he doubted Tony would. Despite his figurative (and literal) prodding back on the helicarrier, his 'secrets' weren't that extraordinary.

The man laughed. "I bet you do." He rubbed at his nose thoughtfully. "Yeah, guess you can show me. What could it hurt?" He shrugged.

The doctor was surprised by this turn of events. Rather than express his dubiousness however, he nodded. "When would you like me to show you?"

Tony went back to picking at his fish; he wasn't quite consuming it at the rate Bruce would've liked. "Whenever, I guess." He looked a little unsure of the answer he had just given, so it didn't surprise Bruce when he amended it. "I mean, I really need to get back to what I was doing when you came in…"

The doctor hoped he was managing to keep the strong disapproval he felt from showing on his face. Tony had said he'd take a break from working if he visited and he expected the man to honor that.

Tony switched gears. He spoke sheepishly, "But it can wait a little longer. At least until after you show me tonight." The engineer paused and peeked up at him, shamefacedly, "Does that… does that work for you?"

Tony's mind sure had a fickle way of sorting through things. It would probably make the prospect of 'tonight' very interesting. "Yeah, that works for me," Bruce said, taking another fry out of his basket.

"Great," Tony said, a grin working its way back over his features.


	4. Chapter 4

Three and a half hours on the beach had left them both very gritty-feeling and salty. Upon return to the Stark mansion, the two men parted for separate showers to rinse off.

Tony had also agreed to meet him in his room in approximately forty-five minutes for their 'session'.

Bruce removed the articles of clothing his friend had lent him and put them in the linen hamper beside the closet. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the spigot, testing the temperature underneath the showerhead. The water was warm almost immediately, much to his delight, and he stepped into the glass enclosure, shutting the door behind him.

He stepped under the hot spray and gave a little groan. The water pressure was good too-- the droplets beating against his skin; it practically felt like a massage. It wasn't like he couldn't get clean in Kolkata on a regular basis, but it wasn't something he got daily. Nor was it this… _divine_. Damn Tony for having the best of the best.

The doctor hummed, his thoughts returned to his friend. He was going to try to teach Tony Stark, of all people, to meditate. A man, who on any given basis, could be the most talkative, rude, sassy, loud and peace-disrupting man on the planet.

"Really set yourself up for a challenge, Banner…" he mumbled to himself as he got his hair damp so he could shampoo it.

A few minutes later he shut off the water, toweling off before stepping out of the shower so he wouldn't drip on the floor. The mirror was fogged from steam; Bruce set the fan for a ten minute cycle to reduce the moisture. Towel around his hips, he dug through his luggage until he found his yoga pants and the plain oriental shirt he'd packed. It was solid black, made of cotton, and had a mandarin collar and six frog fasteners down the front. He slipped into both garments. He liked them for the loose swish the fabric made against his skin when he moved; it had a soothing quality.

He was just hanging his towel up to dry when he heard knocking coming from his door. A good ten minutes early; Tony showed up for things when he liked. Bruce went over and answered it. "Hey," he greeted the engineer standing outside the room, "Come on in."

"Thanks," Tony smiled, but the expression didn't last long before it had warped into a crooked smirk, "Are you trying to get a part in a Kung-Fu movie? Ya know… if you're looking for a collection of cars to wax, there's a whole bunch that could use a new coat down in the garage; I bet DUM-E would really appreciate it if you gave him a hand." He made the circular 'wax-on, wax-off' motions in the air out in front of him.

Bruce hadn't been completely unprepared for the other's wise-assery. He squared his hips and shoulders, distributing his weight evenly on both legs. "Brazilan Jiu-Jitsu," he corrected.

The innovator cocked his head to one side, the current topics of wax and Brazil likely the cause for the lecherous grin forming on his face. "Brazilian what-now?"

With a burst of speed, Bruce swept one of Tony's feet out from under him, grabbing the other man's arm to throw him over his shoulder in one fluid motion.

"HOLY SHIT!" the billionaire yelped, flailing as he thudded onto his back on the guestroom bed. It took Tony a moment to recover, gaping at Bruce upside-down. "Okay, that was awesome and totally uncalled for at the same time, big guy."

"I'm pretty sure it was called for…" the physicist attempted to resist the amusement tugging the corner of his lip upward.

"At any rate, I'm pretty sure that throwing me around the room isn't the methodology for 'keeping calm' you were talking about. I could be wrong though," Tony responded with a teasing expression as he got back to his feet. For a moment he tried to be serious, "Is, uh, what I'm wearing okay for what we're gonna be doing?"

Bruce looked him up and down. The other scientist had on a form-hugging tee and a pair of synthetic pants. "Yeah, it's fine. But take off your shoes," he told him as he got his straw mat out of his bag. It was big enough they both should have room to sit on it. He unrolled it onto the carpet floor.

Tony finished kicking off his sneakers and wadding up his ankle socks. He scratched the back of his head and regarded Bruce. "So all of this stuff helps you relax, huh?"

The doctor shook his head. "You can meditate any time, anywhere in whatever you happen to be wearing. The 'stuff' is unimportant," he explained to his materialistic friend. "All you need is your mind and your body."

"Well, I'm a fan of both of those things," Tony said smirkingly, adding a wink. "Enlighten me, doc."

Bruce chuckled under his breath. The other man had no idea how insulting that would've been to a serious spiritual practioner; thankfully Bruce was passing on second-hand knowledge from his own sources. "If only it were so easily attainable," he joked wryly. He folded his legs neatly beneath his body and beckoned Tony with his fingers to come join him.

The engineer made a lot of undue motion in getting sat down and having his legs crossed just so, but he did finally get there. Bruce regarded him down the line of his nose, "Now, the idea is that once you assume your position, you stay there for the duration of your session." He made himself an example by placing his palms up on his knees.

Tony narrowed his eyes. "You're saying I can't move," he clarified.

"Have you gotten into position?" Bruce asked plainly, affording the man the opportunity to get into a better one if he needed to.

The billionaire shifted. He was still a moment before shifting again. This occured three more times; Bruce sat motionlessly through all of Tony's fidgeting until at last the man proclaimed himself comfortable. "Alright. Got it. My ass and this spot have become one."

Bruce hid his smile as best he could. "Now close your eyes and sit up straight," he instructed, doing so himself and leaving it up to Tony to follow along. "Take a deep breath in through your nose, hold it just long enough to feel it in your lungs, then exhale through your mouth."

"Okay," Tony vocalized. Bruce listened quietly for the sound of the other man's out-breath. So far so good, he thought, drawing in his own and letting it out. "Now what?" the engineer's voice intruded in on his thoughts; the physicist internally face-palmed.

"Just keep doing it," he answered, trying to remain unruffled. "Establish a breathing pattern."

Tony went quiet again. For a little while. "How long do we have to be here for again?" Bruce could hear Tony's feet wriggling impatiently between the floor and his legs, not doing a very good job of sitting still as he'd been instructed. Not that that was any great surprise.

"There's no set time you have to meditate for, the more important thing is what you're able to get out of it for the time that you are," Bruce explained. Which, at this rate, might be all of five minutes. But it was a start. He had to be patient. Outside he could hear the far-away battering of waves against the rocks on which the mansion was built, creating a slow tempo for his breathing to follow naturally. Envisioning the white foam spraying into the air washed away his other thoughts, leaving his mind devoid of anything but filling his lungs and emptying them.

"So… what am I supposed to be thinking about here?" Tony inquired.

Bruce hummed softly, withdrawing from his mind just enough to utter a short response. "Nothing."

"Nothing??" From the tone of Tony's voice, Bruce had to guess one of his eyebrows had crawled clear up to his hairline. "How the Hell are you supposed to think about _nothing?_ That's impossible!"

His answer had been a drastic oversimplification, which was his own fault. Bruce corrected himself. "Just focus on your breathing," he spoke. "Concentrate on the sensation of air entering your nostrils. Make it the center of your thoughts. If your mind wanders, bring it back to center."

Silence followed. Tony must have gone back to trying. A few moments later he heard the man let out a frustrated huff. "Bruce, I don't know if I can do this--" His voice was pinched... tight.

The physicist allowed his eyes to flutter open. Tony had already opened his and was looking miserable, seated in a different position than he had started. Bruce spoke softly, reassuringly, "You can. You need to give it more time. It isn't an easy exercise."

"You don't understand," Tony started, shaking his head. He pulled his legs up to his chest and hugged them. "I can't get my mind to slow down. The more I try, the faster it goes." The man's eyes darted to and fro; he began to speak in sharp, disjointed fragments, "It won't stop-- it just won't-- Every time I sit or lie still I think of more-- and I can't--"

Bruce grabbed for his shoulder. "Easy," he soothed, supplying a squeeze. Tony sighed, sagging into the gesture. The root of his friend's sleeping disorder might be becoming a bit more clear to him now… In any case, sitting quietly wasn't going to help Tony in the slightest. "I think I approached this wrong," Bruce submitted apologetically. "Let me explain another way." Tony nodded mutely. Bruce started over, "It's okay for your mind to wander. In fact, it's going to happen no matter who you are."

The information seemed to perk the innovator up a little bit. "So… even your mind wanders?" he asked trepidatiously, not seeming convinced.

"All the time," Bruce admitted freely. "To past experiences, to concerns about the future," he listed off. The second of the two seemed to strike a chord with the other man, who leaned forward with keener interest. "The key isn't stifling those thoughts or getting rid of them, it's about acknowledging them and the effect they have on us." Bruce steepled his fingers on his chest, "All of us have emotions tangled up inside us. It's about untangling them and getting control of them so they can't control us."

Tony had sat back, leaning onto his palms behind him to listen. "Which is why you can control the Hulk," he concluded.

Bruce cleared his throat uncomfortably. "It's… been known to keep him at bay…"

"No, no," the engineer waved his hands, "I meant control as in why he helped fight all those outer space aliens. Why he snatched me outta the sky when I was falling. You just said yourself it isn't about stifling the emotion. It's about redirecting it, giving it an outlet. One that you control, instead of the other way 'round."

Dr. Banner felt his lips purse. Conceptually, at least, Tony was a quick learner. He bowed his head, choosing to give the topic a wide berth. "Precisely. So what _you_ need to do--" he stressed the word, poking the man above his arc reactor with his forefinger-- "is focus on these feelings inside you that aren't letting you sleep and take control of them."

Tony cast his gaze back at the ground again now that the subject of the conversation had been returned to him. He rubbed his palms up and down the outsides of his arms uncertainly. "I dunno if I know how to do that, doc…"

Of course he didn't. Bruce hadn't given him the means yet. "You know how to build things, right?" Bruce posed; Tony nodded. "So then you also know how to take things apart," he conjectured further. Tony nodded to this as well. "Emotions are the same way-- they're built up from several chemical responses in the brain, which manifest themselves in physical ways. They're complicated and difficult to understand when viewed as a whole. But you can take apart the pieces. You can analyze them one at a time."

Tony's nose was crinkled in thought over what he had just said, probably trying to get over the pseudoscience-y vibe it all had. Bruce decided it was time for a concrete example. "For instance, I'm guessing one of the emotions you've been feeling a lot lately is panic?"

The scientist's mouth morphed into a degrading smile. "Like you wouldn't _believe_ ," he said.

Bruce nodded tritely. "If you're going to get ahold of your panic, you're going to need to take it apart and evaluate how it's affecting you. Meditation is a means to do this." He eyed his friend sitting on the mat in front of him meaningfully. "Are you ready to give it another try? I'll guide you through it step-by-step."

The billionaire squared his jaw. "Yeah, let's do this."

Tony settled back into a cross-legged position and set both his hands on his knees. His head dipped slightly towards his chest as he closed his eyes, seeming a good deal more confident than he had been before. The physicist took it as a sign of progress. "Now I want you to concentrate on something that's recently making you feel this way." The what wasn't important, he just needed Tony to experience the emotion from it. "Do you have it?" Bruce asked.

The innovator gave a confirming nod.

"Good. In a state of panic, your blood pressure increases," he began, dictating softly but clearly. "You'll feel all the blood pounding through your veins: up your neck, in your head and temples and ears, down your thighs, all the way out to your fingertips."

Tony's fingers twitched on his knees. "Uh huh," he agreed, speaking but keeping his eyes shut. "Sometimes the pressure is so much it feels like I could explode any second."

Bruce hummed at the description, knowing it well himself. "Acknowledge that feeling, but don't dwell on it. Simply recognize that it's there and move on to the next." He hesitated, watching the other man closely; he gave Tony a moment to do so before going on. "Panic also causes your breathing to speed up, to pump that blood faster. You'll breathe in quick, shallow gulps or possibly huge, heaving breaths… either way, it still won't feel like you're getting enough oxygen."

"Y-yeah… yeah, definitely…" the engineer responded. Bruce could tell Tony was having difficulty keeping his breathing pattern, experiencing the phenomenon they were currently discussing. His shoulders were rising and falling as he mentally grappled with the bodily sensation.

"Acknowledge it," Bruce repeated. "Don't let it consume you. Be mindful of its presence and accept it for what it is and no more." Tony's eyes were scrunched shut; he nodded furiously to the doctor's words. Bruce let him struggle for awhile on his own before seeking to ask, "Do you feel anything else?"

Tony let out an unsteady breath as he evaluated the state of his body. "T-there's… a prickling on the back of my neck," he got out. "And… and my hands are starting to sweat… but," his brow crinkled in confusion, "I'm not too warm."

"Good, that's another common symptom of a panic attack," the doctor commended his friend's observation. Tony was definitely on the right track. "You've identified a reaction your body is having to the emotion without focusing on the emotion itself. Can you give me another?"

"Quivering…" Tony immediately responded, a hard shudder visibly coursing through him as his head bowed lower, cringing. "In my l-lower back. My l-legs. …Ev-everywhere…"

Bruce knew he was putting Tony through a harsh ordeal, but if he stopped now it would all be for nothing. He kept talking to give him something to hold on to. "Take control. Feel it, but don't give it power. It's up to you to decide if you're going to let it rule you or not." Bruce could tell the other man was on the cusp of breaking down right there in front of him. "Focus on your breathing," he urged, desperate to see him succeed. Bruce shut his eyes as if to lend Tony some of his will.

A change swept over the engineer, the sounds of his breathing slowing… loosening… becoming more peaceful and rhythmic. He sat a little straighter, head tipping back as his eyelashes fluttered against the bottom lid where they were shut. He'd crested the panic and achieved calm.

Bruce smiled and slipped into his own meditation.


	5. Chapter 5

_He shields his face from the sharp blasts with his forearm, the pain registering only dully. The whir of their hovercrafts surrounds him in a 360° circle and they're all shooting, peppering exposed skin like hot coals being flicked at his body. A deafening roar releases from his lungs, enough to rattle the windows that haven't yet been shattered in, and the ground gives up, caving in around him, covering him beneath a mound of rubble. The firing doesn't cease… they're not going to stop until he does… and as he tries to claw his way to the surface, fingers searching for purchase in the ragged debris, he feels his tired muscles failing… giving out… His strength has been sapped out._

_He catches a glimpse of the brilliant blue sky and in it a soaring figure. The sun glints off his red and gold armor and he's shooting upward, climbing higher and higher towards the portal ripped through space until he's no more than a speck in his vision._

_And just like that, he blips away._

_Another roar tears from his throat, anguished, in turmoil. Moments later his attackers rain to the ground, unconscious or dead, but instead of relief, all he feels is anger and confusion and the need to pound his chest… to smash everything to dust until the pain can be reconciled…_

_Tony just barely slips through the portal as it sucks closed. But he's in free fall, tumbling limply towards the ground below._

_Need renews his strength._

_Throwing the wreckage aside, he barrels to the edge of the skyscraper, leaping into the air, arms extended. It's not as hard a collision as the man would have suffered hitting the ground, but his metal suit clangs against his muscled chest before he wraps a protective arm around him. The trajectory of his jump carries them to the next building, and he latches his hand and feet into whatever they will hold, the concrete giving way underneath his massive fingers and toes. He grits his teeth at the pain but continues to hold on as long as he can, slowing their descent little by little._

_His fingers give out and he curls both arms around Tony as he falls away from the building. The hood of an automobile breaks his fall, the impact driving the air out of his lungs and leaving him gasping to get it back, but they're okay now. They're okay. With a grunt, he rolls the man in the suit off of him so he can get back to his feet._

_Thor and the Captain rush over. A large breath snorts from his nostrils, but he steps back to give them room to check on Tony-- they're more useful than he can be right now since he's so huge and Tony is so small. Thor throws off the man's iron mask and the Captain hunches over him, checking to see if he's showing signs of life. Cap looks up and sits back sadly._

_Again he senses there's something wrong, an indescribable pain in his head he doesn't comprehend, and that anger in his chest multiplies; it bubbles up and over. Tony can't leave him here alone like this. Not after all the things he's said about them being one-and-the-same and that he… the Hulk… had saved him… them for something. Tony won't be selfish and die and take with him an understanding and_ trust _he's never had since the accident. He hadn't known until now, but he needs him. He needs him and if he doesn't wake up--_

_Bruce screams at him._

He broke free of his trance the way he would have if he'd woken in the middle of a nightmare. It took him a moment to collect himself and realize that he was sitting in the guestroom of Tony's seaside mansion and wasn't still back in the streets of New York. He could still hear the residual echo of his outcry in his ears, though thankfully he hadn't shouted out loud-- he got the feeling it had been a close thing… Though, taking the intensity of the memory into consideration, his heart wasn't pounding too hard. With a sigh he pulled himself back to reality, sweeping a hand through his hair.

"Oh hey, you're back," a cheery voice greeted him.

Bruce looked up to where Tony was lying on his bed, his front propped up on his elbows and feet kicking the air behind him. His eyes were bright and wide, and definitely _awake_. Seeing him alive and well was a relief, as silly as that sounded. Bruce shook his head. "When did you stop?" he asked, a little embarrassed he'd gotten so deeply entrenched in his own meditation that it caused him to lose track of the other man's.

Tony gave a noncommittal shrug. "I dunno, a few minutes ago? But you were pretty deep into it and I figured I oughta let you do your thing so you could 'get what you needed to get' out of it."

Bruce cast a sideways glance away before looking back at the man. "Yeah, a little deeper than I would've liked…" he admitted.

Now he'd gone and gotten the other man's attention. "What were you thinking about?" Tony prodded. "Meditating on, sorry," he corrected.

Bruce looked away again. "The attack on New York."

"Ah," Tony's reply was uncharacteristically succinct.

Shaking his head away from his thoughts, Bruce picked himself up from the ground, along with the mat, which he began to roll up. It was just one bad session. It happened even to the most skilled of meditators. The thing of greater importance was the man in front of him. "So, how do you feel after having given it a try?" Bruce asked.

Tony's mouth deformed into a broad smile. He sat up and scooched until his legs draped over the edge of the bed. "Pretty damn good, really. Sorta… refreshed, I guess?" He shrugged. "It was nice." The man paused, tipping his head to the side. "Thanks for showing me."

Bruce smiled at the genuineness. "You're welcome. You can use it whenever," he advised, entering the walk-in closet to prop the rolled-up mat in one of the corners for easy access. "It can really help times you're feeling overwhelmed or stressed."

"You think…" Tony began, seeming to think better of whatever was about to follow, only to turn around and go through with it anyway, "you think we could meditate together again sometime?"

Why Tony thought he wouldn't be alright with that stupefied Bruce a bit. "I'd be fine with you joining me," the physicist said, grabbing one of his button-ups and a pair of slacks off their hangars so he could change into them. He proceeded into the bathroom with the clothes draped over his arm, fingers already skimming down the line of fasteners on his front using his reflection. He turned his head somewhat to continue speaking to the innovator, "I usually like to meditate at least twice a day."

"Okay, that might be a little _too_ often for me," Tony said with a laugh. "We'll shoot for once a day and just see how it goes or if we need to scale it back."

That was a reasonable goal, he thought. If they could establish a kind of 'daily routine', Tony's recovery would be that much swifter. Once he was re-dressed, Bruce emerged from the restroom. "I did want to thank you for putting me up in your home. And for lunch earlier," he said.

Tony waved his hand with a scoff. "Don't mention it. What kind of friend would I be if I made you stay down at the Motel 6? They haven't even upgraded to flatscreens yet."

"How would I ever deal with the hardship?" Bruce responded sarcastically.

"Shut up. I know you love it," Tony shot back. They wandered out into the living room. The innovator stopped dead in his tracks to sniff the air with a wild look in his eye. "Is that…?" he trailed off. Pepper was sitting on the suede wrap-around couch, her hair down from the bun it had been in earlier. That and the more casual clothes she was wearing gave away that she was now off the clock. "Oh my God!" Tony gasped, dashing forward and vaulting over the back of the sofa. When he landed it bounced the woman and nearly caused her to drop the little white box and chopsticks she was holding in her fingers. "You got Chinese?? What type? Is there more?" the man asked rapid-fire, making to grab it away from her.

Her arms were longer however. "Ah-ah," Pepper chided, holding it away from him at arm's length as he reached over her lap in desperate attempt to get at it. "Yours is in the fridge. I got you chicken chow mein, sweet-and-sour pork and a side order of potstickers."

Tony looked like he was going to cry tears of happiness at the information. "This is why this relationship works," he stated matter-of-factly, pecking her on the cheek and rising from the couch. "You know exactly what I love most."

Pepper's green eyes rolled, but she was smiling subtly as her boyfriend hastened from the room in the direction of the kitchen. She turned her gaze to the doctor standing watchfully on the sidelines. "There's plenty to go around, just help yourself when you're hungry."

Bruce snapped out of it with a shake of his head, realizing with embarrassment that he'd been staring. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Ms. Potts," he nodded appreciatively, coming around the couch to join her. Tony returned naught but a few seconds later, balancing his three boxes on top of one another. Apparently he hadn't seen a need to reheat any of them. He set each on the coffee table as he plopped into the easychair and, armed with his chopsticks, he leaned forward to pop the top of the chow mein open, his brown eyes lit with avarice. Bruce watched with amusement as Tony shoved three mouthfuls down his gullet in rapid succession.

"So what were you two up to in the guestroom?" Pepper asked, poking the orange chicken around in her take-out box.

Tony had about a dozen strings of noodle hanging out of his mouth, but he responded before the physicist could put words to it, "Bruce was teachin' me how'ta meditate."

The CEO of Stark Industries looked over at the doctor incredulously. "You were able to get Tony to sit quietly for more than five minutes??"

"That hurts, Pep," Tony gave a pout.

Bruce just chuckled, looking down at where his fingers were twined together in his lap. "For almost an hour," he elucidated.

"My God," the woman shook her head in awe. "I would love to learn that trick. You would not believe how this man acts during a business meeting."

Tony prodded the air sharply with his chopsticks, "I'm tellin' ya, there's gotta be a way to spice those things up. Give 'em a little sizzle."

"Dancing on the table is not one of them," Pepper submitted, and from the way she said it Bruce got the feeling that said occurence that had happened at some point or another. He chuckled, leaning out to reach into the to-go box of potstickers; Tony gave an emphatic noise of approval, pushing it closer for him with his foot so the physicist could take one.

"What else am I supposed to do when someone's cell starts playing 'You Shook Me All Night Long'?" the engineer asked.

"Respectfully wait for them to silence it?" she suggested.

It was interesting, Bruce noted, to observe the total lack of malice displayed by either the man or woman as they bandied back and forth. On the surface it would have been easy to say they were having a petty argument, but he drew a much different conclusion: They weren't fighting, they were playing. Bruce had to admit when he first met the woman in her office, he'd thought her down-to-earth, no-nonsense personality was an odd match romantically for someone like Tony, and that it could be the cause for significant friction in their relationship. But seeing them interact now gave proof to the old idiom that opposites were known to attract.

"No offense, but that seems more like something _you_ would do, and less like something _I_ would do," Tony stuffed another bite into his mouth, pursing his lips to slurp in a wayward noodle.

Pepper sifted in her seat, a smug look coming over her features, "Well perhaps, if you can find the means to control _yourself_ next time, _I_ might be able to find the means to do a little dancing on the table…"

The man stared at her through half-lidded eyes, a dreamy smile plastered on his face that clearly said he thought he was the luckiest man on earth. But then something happened, almost as if a switch had been flipped in his brain from 'OFF' to 'ON'; a panic-stricken look shot across his features, his whole body visibly tensing. "Shit," Tony swore, causing both Pepper and Bruce to regard him oddly. "Sorry," he apologized quickly, setting his chow mein on the table in front of him, "I gotta go down to the lab. I… this was good. I'll have the rest later." He stood from the armchair.

"You want me to put it back in the fridge?" Pepper called after him.

But he'd left too quick for her to get a response. Bruce frowned. The woman sighed sullenly from where she sat on the couch, brushing some hair back behind an ear. "Well… it was nice while it lasted…" she said with bitter resignation, staring into her container of food with a hollow expression.

Bruce wasn't quite sure how to comment on what had just transpired in front of him. Tony could be impulsive, but he didn't know what had so suddenly come over the man as to run off practically mid-conversation. "I'm sure it was something important," he assured.

Pepper gave a snort through her nostrils. "I'm sure he _thinks_ it was something important."

The physicist nibbled at the inside of his mouth, realizing he had a bit of a delicate situation on his hands now. He switched the placement of the emphasis. "You're right. He wouldn't have left if _he_ didn't think it was important."

The CEO's shoulders slumped. "I suppose I shouldn't be angry at him for doing what he thinks…" she changed verbs, " _feels_ he needs to," she spoke, though she didn't sound 100% sincere. Her head shook from side to side. "I just wish he didn't feel like he needs to."

"Unfortunately, that's not up to anyone but him," Bruce reasoned softly.

Pepper nodded, lower lip drawn up into her mouth to hold back the emotion threatening to get the best of her. The redhead laughed suddenly then. "It's crazy. Stupid, really…" Bruce tipped his head in motion that she go on; she took a deep breath. "I used to be really judgemental about the way he spent so much time goofing off. Back before we were dating, he'd go out and party every other night and drag some floozy back to the house and wake up the next morning hungover. He gambled. He didn't take anything seriously. I always had to pick up his slack."

Bruce listened carefully to all of what the woman was saying. "Did you like him back then?"

Pepper smiled a little self-consciously. "Of course. No girl really didn't." An eyebrow arched on her head, "Tony's _always_ been charming."

The doctor nodded in agreement. "So you say he used to be like this," he led in, "when did that change?"

The woman's adam's apple bobbed. "When he got back from being captive in Afganistan… I almost could've sworn he was a completely different person. He had a direction, a purpose he'd never had before and he didn't let anything stop him." Bruce hummed softly; he'd read about the double-dealing the company had been involved in under Obediah Stane's administration, and how Tony had taken ownership after one of the site facilities exploded with Stane inside it. Up until then, Stark Industries had been nothing more than a weapons manufacturer, but Tony changed all that.

Pepper went on. "I was really proud of him. For what he did. For who he became. I think that was always him though, it was just latent inside him, waiting for something to bring it out."

The assessment seemed sound to him; he hadn't known Tony back then of course, but nothing about Tony now gave him reason to believe any differently or propose anything to the contrary.

She tittered softly again, lost in memory. "And for awhile it looked like he was relapsing. Going back to drinking and partying and being reckless. He didn't tell me he was dying from palladium poisoning though, which was probably the most reckless thing of all, but," she rolled her eyes in place of finishing the sentence. "He threw this crazy birthday party that nearly destroyed this place," she inclined her eyes at the ceiling and a smile spread across her lips once more. "But then he rebuilt it and we started planning the building in New York and everything seemed really good. We were spending time together, productivity was up, and then…"

Bruce knew what the 'and then' was without her saying it. "The Chitauri."

The redhead nodded. Dr. Banner leaned back in his seat, thinking it over silently. She'd given a condensed summary of the key events leading up to now, but it was the more recent ones, since the battle in New York that would be likely to shed light on the way Tony was behaving now. "What was he like after the attack?" he pressed. "Was it different than any of the times prior?"

"I didn't notice anything immediately different," Pepper said. "He got started on repairs and converted a floor of the Tower for each of the Avengers, which I thought was actually really clever." Bruce felt his brow knot in the center. A floor for each of them? His right eye gave a little twitch in its socket. Did that mean… there was one for the Hulk?? Moreover, how come he didn't know about this? Did any of the other Avengers-- Rogers, Thor? What about Fury? Was S.H.I.E.L.D. in the loop? His head spun without answers; Tony really _had_ been busy. He blinked when he realized Pepper was speaking again. "He had a few upgrades for a Mark 8. But for some reason he didn't stop there. Next thing I know he's building all these new suits… suits that can fly in outer space, suits designed for hyper velocity…" Pepper gestured out in front of herself, indicating she could go on and on if she cared to. "He says they're 'specialized', built to handle specific situations for when they arise." Exasperation was beginning to crawl back into her voice, "I thought the one suit was good enough."

The information congealed in one clarifying moment. Even with all six of them working together, they'd been out-matched, or at least far too out-numbered; it was only thanks to Romanoff making the connection between Loki's scepter and the force-field that had saved them. Tony was used to being able to handle anything that was thrown at him. Going in swinging and coming out celebrating. What Pepper considered a success-- that an alien race had been stopped from taking over the planet, which _was_ a pretty big success if you asked Bruce-- Tony considered a failure, because he hadn't been able to do it alone.

At least, that seemed like a reasonable theory. He'd have to give it more thought. And potentially do more research.

Pepper sighed again and stood, beginning to close the paper boxes one by one so she could take them to the fridge; Bruce stood as well. "Through it all, I just can't help but think I finally got what I wanted," she stated dolefully. "But now that I've gotten it…"

"You don't want it anymore," the doctor finished.

The redhead shut her eyes, a rivulet running down each freckled cheek. She came towards him, and an old buried instinct made him open up his arms. "I just want the old Tony back…" she whispered, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

The physicist doubted that she really wanted her old reckless, alcoholic boyfriend back; what she _really_ wanted was a middle-ground between the two. But he could understand why the circumstance lent itself to a polarized viewpoint, and the grass was always greener on the other side. He rubbed her back consolingly. "I know it's hard when fun-loving man you remember seems so far away, but you have to be patient and have faith that it won't be forever."

Pepper drew back from him with a short sniff, nodding to herself. "I'll… I'll try to keep that advice in mind." Her green eyes caught his again. "Thank you, Dr. Banner. Your concern for the two of us is very… sweet."

Bruce found himself giving a chuckle, looking down at his toes. His tongue felt heavy and swollen in his mouth, but he spoke the words he felt anyhow, "It's been awhile since two people who knew about… the Other Guy… willingly invited me into their home to stay with them."

A mix of expressions warped her face. He spared her the need to search for a response by going on himself, "At any rate, I'm going to go down in a few minutes and see if I can talk to him. We had a very relaxing afternoon; I wouldn't be surprised if it informed the sudden exit we just saw."

"Yes," Pepper answered distractedly, following it with a couple of nods, "Yes, I suppose that would be a good idea."

Bruce smiled at her, watching long enough to establish that she had recovered and was okay now. As she picked up the chinese food and headed for the kitchen, he took his leave.


	6. Chapter 6

As a matter of politeness, Bruce waited half an hour before proceeding down to the lab as he'd told Pepper he would. He figured that way it would seem less like an intrusion and it would give the engineer some time to accomplish what he'd been so insistent he needed to get back to, whatever that was.

Tony had music playing over the speaker system this time, presumably so he could turn the volume up to the near-deafening level that was blaring out around him. A bit of a wince on his features, Bruce retraced his earlier path through the lab, taking much more diligent mental note of the projects around him than on his prior walk-through. He may as well have been blindfolded the first time however, because now it became apparent that nearly everything in the lab was somehow related to Tony's signature armor. Pepper had not been incorrect about the innumerability of new suits; he hadn't realized the extent to which the man's obsession extended.

He found Tony welding two pieces of metal together, a mask over his face to protect his eyes as he carefully ran the blowtorch across the two edges he was fusing together into a seam. Briefly Bruce considered tapping the man on the shoulder to get his attention, but thought better of it. He cupped his hands over his mouth. "Hey! How's it going?!" he shouted over the music.

The innovator gave a startled jump, head snapping in his direction. He flicked off the torch and lifted his mask. "JARVIS, turn it down a couple clicks, could you?" he dictated.

Bruce was surprised the voice recognition had even been able to pick up Tony's words amid the blasting music. "Certainly, sir," the program responded cordially, minimizing the volume significantly so the two men could hear one another without yelling.

"Sorry, didn't know you were coming down tonight," Tony said, dropping the shield back over his eyes and face. He gestured with the torch before reigniting the flame, "I'll work a subroutine into JARVIS' OS to turn it down when you come in from now on." He bent over his work.

"It's fine," Bruce assured, not wanting to burden the other scientist with any additional tasks if he could help it. He tilted his head to the side. "So how is it coming along?" he reiterated.

"Hm?" Tony vocalized like he wasn't really listening. "Oh, you mean what I was working on earlier?"

"Yeah."

Tony waved his left hand with an almost dismissive disinterest, "I got done with that."

The physicist frowned. "Then why didn't you come back up?"

Tony turned off the blowtorch but purposely kept their gazes from meeting as he removed his face shield. "I had more to do," he stated simply, picking up the finished product to take it over to a workbench.

Bruce could tell this conversation wasn't going to go anywhere fast. He needed to approach from a different angle. The doctor wet his lips. "You really upset Pepper with the way you left."

The engineer slammed the joined pieces down on the table, whipping around the face him. "Oh so what? I'm supposed to drop everything I'm doing down _here_ and rush back up _there_ just because I hurt her feelings?? Is that it?"

He hadn't expected the comment to result in such vexation. Bruce had to work to keep his tongue from clicking. "I only stated that Ms. Potts was agitated."

"Let her be," Tony motioned off-handedly, turning back to the table. He brought up a holographic display that wrapped a glowing blue mesh over the metal, indicating where he needed to drill holes to match the computerized design. "She'll get over it."

Bruce felt his lips tug down harder; he folded his arms on his chest. Pepper was pragmatic enough that that was probably true, but the handling the cirmstance in such a fashion left a lot to be desired. He attempted to not sound patronizing. "That doesn't sound like a very good solution to the problem."

The drill bit chiseled its way through the metal, poking through to the other side. Tony lifted it up. "Yeah? Well what _is?_ " he asked in a maligning tone; he blew out the metal filings, "You think I'm having fun working my ass off down here?"

The question was clearly rhetorical, so the physicist didn't answer it.

"I'm doing this for her own good, whether she realizes it or not," the billionaire bored another hole through the metal aggressively, immediately proceeding to the third.

Bruce shook his head to himself. When all of this was said and done, he ought to receive an honorary degree in counseling. He spoke frankly, "What would do her the most good right now is to know that her boyfriend is willing to set aside his work to spend some time with her."

"Well I'm not willing to. It's as simple as that."

Bruce could scarcely believe Tony's attitude to all this. He was like a mule digging in its hooves who was refusing to be shown the proper path. No wonder things had been problematic around the Stark household. Bruce hung back a moment, watching the innovator place a circuitry panel as per the digital schematic. It called for phillips-head screws to attach it by the corners, Bruce noticed. Before Tony could grab the appropriate screwdriver for the job, the physicist reached into the toolbox and confiscated it from him.

The engineer stuck out his hand, palm up. "Bruce. I need that; give it back."

"No, what you need is to take a break," the doctor was going to be firm with his friend.

"I'll take a break when I finish it," Tony promised, "Now give it _back_."

He didn't return it; he had no reason whatsoever to believe Tony was telling the truth this time over any other time he'd said the same thing. "If this doesn't get finished tonight, what happens?" Bruce posed.

The innovator rolled his eyes in a big, dramatic circle, pushing away from the workbench. "I don't know, something potentially _really_ bad?" He walked over to the large roller tool chest, opening a drawer to scrounge around in it for a duplicate screwdriver.

"So you don't even know what you're preparing for," the physicist dead-panned.

Tony slammed the drawer shut forcefully, rattling the contents of the entire crate. "I'm preparing for _everything!_ " he expostulated, stalking back. "Listen, I know this is _probably_ hard for you to grasp, because you can just get a little ticked off and bam!" he snapped his fingers-- "you're invincible." He thrust the end of the screwdriver at his chest, "But some of us _aren't_. Some of us can actually _be killed_."

Bruce was on the threshold of getting 'a little ticked off' right now. How Tony could stand there, comparing the Iron Man suits to his transformation showed just how ignorant the other man was. Bruce had told him before that the Hulk wasn't armor, that he wasn't something that could just be taken on and off, that he was dangerous and had a mind of his own. Bruce wouldn't wish his condition on anyone, not even to make them 'invincible'. Despite how strongly he felt on the subject, he resolutely kept it to himself. He wasn't the topic of the conversation, Tony was, and the other man was escalating this far beyond where it should be. "When did this become a discussion about mortality?"

"When _didn't_ it??" Tony threw up his arms. "Were you there in New York or not? _We're_ the only things standing between Earth and whatever's out there!" he jabbed at the ceiling, his gestures becoming more and more erratic. "There was that whole 'Avengers Initiative' thing? Is this ringing any bells _at all?_ Or were they doing experimental brain transplants in Kolkata and you needed a couple hundred bucks?"

Bruce felt his mouth flatten out into a broad grimace. He couldn't help but feel a little insulted by the other man's words, but he kept his response level-headed nonetheless. "I was there. We closed the portal. We sent the power source that _made_ the portal back with Thor so the Asguardians could handle it." He grabbed his friend's gaze and held it, "We did our job, Tony. We did _more_ than our job. As of now, it's out of our hands. The only person I can think of who should be losing any sleep over it is Fury."

He'd meant for the statement to be reassuring, but if anything it only riled the engineer up even more. "So you're saying I should just walk away and forget it happened?" Tony swung out his right arm; his voice had raised to the level of shouting. "Act like I'm not on the hook if something happens _again?_ "

"I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying you need to take a goddamn break!" Bruce felt the hairs on the back of his neck stiffening against the collar of his shirt as the hostility in the laboratory grew.

"You have no idea what it's like to be me," Tony spat accusingly, "You and Thor and Rogers can all sit back on your laurels and _twiddle your fucking thumbs_ waiting for the next attack, but _I_ have to prepare. So when you show up in _my_ lab and tell _me_ what to do--"

"It's not always about the 'next attack'!" Bruce snarled. His right foot came down on the concrete floor hard enough to leave a miniaturized crater. Tony's eyes bugged wide, adam's apple bobbing in his throat. It took the doctor a moment to realize he was looking down at the other scientist now… part-way through transformation-- his hands had tinged green and he'd popped one of the buttons on his shirt. With two concentrated breaths, he shrunk to normal size. The engineer was looking considerably meeker, avoiding his gaze. "You asked me to come here. To help you take some time off," Bruce reminded softly, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm trying to do that."

Tony's brown eyes watered; he gave a couple rapid blinks to distribute the moisture. "I… y-yeah," he got out ineloquently. A wave of remorse washed over him. "Christ, I'm such a total ass…" he mumbled, sweeping a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I said a bunch of stuff I shouldn't have… I-- I just let myself get carried away and--"

Bruce interrupted him. "You have a right to feel the way you do. You don't have to apologize for that, Tony." The innovator gave his friend a weak smile. "If you felt like anything I said invalidated or diminished your points, I assure you it wasn't my intention." Bruce sucked in a deep breath. "We face some very _ugly_ actualities, and it's important to be prepared. But important above all else is your continued health and sanity."

Tony gave a breathless laugh, dragging his palm over his face. "Guess I oughta catch some sack-time then, huh?"

"We both probably should," the doctor commented, reaching up to allow himself to rub a knuckle into an eye. It was only about six in the evening, but neither of them had much in the ways of sleep lately. Bruce was just glad his friend was finally admitting to needing sleep. One step towards balancing Miss Potts' ideal boyfriend equation, as it were.

"JARVIS, could you back-up everything to the harddrive?" Tony spoke to the lab at large. "I'm done for the night."

"I am already 'on it'," the AI responded. "Have a pleasant evening, sir. And you as well, doctor," it bid them both adieu.

The dark-haired man headed for the corner of the lab opposite the exit. His course confused Bruce and he followed. When the worn-out man belly-flopped into a cot set-up on the floor, Bruce folded his arms over his chest. "Tony…" he began scoldingly, "You're not sleeping down here."

The man wriggled, trying to find a comfortable position on the small surface until he was lying face-up. "Whyyy not?"

Bruce shook his head again, chuckling softly. "Because I don't want you waking up in two hours and going back to it. Which is what I know you'll do if you stay. Now come on." He offered a hand-up.

"But, doooc… I just laid down…!" he got out, throwing his arm across his face.

"Up," Bruce ordered. There was lots of grumbling, but the billionaire took his hand and Bruce pulled him to his feet so they could vacate. Tony shut off the lights and they began up the stairs.

"I still can't get over the fact that you're actually here…" Tony said then, taking the physicist a bit by surprise. He supposed he understood why Tony would still be shocked he'd come. _He_ was still a little surprised by his own decision to come as well. But he wouldn't have made the trip unless he _believed_ his presence would be beneficial to Tony. The engineer went on before he could get a word in edgewise, "I'm glad, is what I'm saying." He motioned his hands around in a circle out in front of him as they alighted. "I mean, it's not like it was the first time I've asked…" he continued. "But that's not to say--" Tony cut himself off with a frustrated huff and turned around as soon as he'd reached the top step, looking down at him. Bruce blinked.

"Thank you," Tony said. "Bottom line. For coming here, for putting up with me today, all of that." His tired eyes gave off a genuine expression.

Bruce smiled, feeling that glow in his chest once again. "Helping out," he corrected, "not 'putting up with'."

"Kinda hard to tell the difference sometimes though, huh?" the innovator gave a sideways grin.

"A little," Bruce admitted with a laugh.

Tony's eyes sparkled. "Catch ya tomorrow mornin', big guy." He gave him a hearty smack on the arm and headed off for the master bedroom. Bruce watched him go, nodding to himself.

Coming had been the right decision.


	7. Chapter 7

"Six… seven…" Bruce counted, keeping his hands floating just beneath the bar of metal but not allowing himself to touch it. "Just a liiittle more," he encouraged, "You've almost got it…"

Tony's elbows locked out at the top of the press, his eyes popping open like he couldn't believe he'd done it as he exhaled the rest of what was left in his lungs, quickly sucking in a greedy breath to replace it.

"Eight!" Bruce concluded and the engineer re-racked the bar with a _clank!_ He turned to grab Tony's towel from the weight rack nearby and extended it out to him in reward.

Tony gave a happy, breathless laugh as he sat up and took the terricloth to dab it against his slick skin, removing the beaded moisture. "That felt _great_ ," he said, still panting from the exertion of pushing his weight plus ten pounds over his chest several times. He looped the towel behind his neck and stood to grab his water bottle, which he lifted above his head and squirted into his mouth.

The doctor watched him with the most imperceivable of smiles. Since arriving three days ago, he'd successfully gotten Tony to start developing habits that were actually _good_ for him. Every day they were spending two or more hours at the beach to soak up sunshine, at least an hour in Tony's home gym either working with weights or doing cardio, and an hour meditating in the quiet of the guestroom. Tony was also eating healthier meals and in larger amounts; Bruce and Pepper had seen to it in conjunction that fresh produce was being purchased from the little farmer's market not too far out of town so there would always be fruits and vegetables to snack on. It had meant plump, flavorful blueberries in this morning's pancakes, and the man had scarfed down a whole stack of four all by himself.

As a result of his efforts, the color of Tony's skin had been returning, taking the dark bags that had been under his eyes with it. He was already a little less gaunt, but they'd have to keep working it to fill him out the way he'd been before. Bruce hummed to himself as he slid the ten-pound plates off either side of the loaded bar, leaving a hundred and fifty-five total (that was 45 for the bar, a 45-plate and a 10-plate on each side; the brain's ability to do simple math seemed to go right out the window when blood directed other places during exercise).

"Last set for you, right?" Tony asked, sauntering back over.

"Yeah," Bruce responded as he took a seat on the bench. The other scientist took his position behind the bar. Really he was doing it more out of moral support than as 'necessary' precaution, the Other Guy could save him after all (as he'd done in times past if Banner were to accept his friend's hypothesis). Bruce preferred to highlight the precautionary aspect though, at least in his own head, because even if he dropped the weight on his neck without Tony there and induced a 'Hulk-out', he had no idea what the monster would do to the weight room or the rest of the Malibu dream home. Redirecting his train of thought, Bruce laid down and spaced his palms out the proper distance on the bar. A little heft off the rack and he began.

"I gotta say, having you spot for me feels a lot safer than when DUM-E does it," Tony commented off-handedly.

Bruce took his focus away from his established point on the ceiling to look at the man incredulously. "You let a robot…" he let the bar touch his chest for rep two, "with _one arm_ spot for you?" He exhaled at the top.

"Not my smartest move, I'll admit," Tony continued, his eyes going up and down with the bar as the physicist pumped out another couple reps, "I guess I didn't think it would be that difficult for him to locate the fulcrum. He nearly killed both of us."

Bruce chuckled lightly but didn't let it interrupt his motion. It was an odd way to phrase it since DUM-E could be rebuilt to no perceivable ill-effects, Tony on the other hand might've been in the hospital awhile, depending on the severity of the accident. He huffed out a heavy breath as he pushed past six, feeling the muscles in his arms straining.

Tony watched him curiously, every bit like the calculating engineer he was. "You really can't do more than this?"

" _I_ can't," Bruce got out as he crested seven; the last rep wasn't going to be at all easy. He sucked in a full breath as he controlled the descent of the bar to his chest again. Then he flexed his arms and chest and drove upward. It was a challenging balance. Between the calm of his mind keeping the Other Guy back and harnessing the physical strength required to push the weight upward. If he let the first aspect slip, it would make the second easier, but then _he_ wouldn't really be doing it, would he? His eyes flickered between his hands, checking for any sign of green, but doing so broke his concentration and his arms gave out.

The bar dropped maybe four inches before Tony's hands shot out and caught it. "I got'cha," he said with a ready smile. He hoisted it back into the rack. "You did good, big guy," he said, giving him a slap on the back as he sat up.

"Thanks," Bruce responded, using the sleeve of his tee to keep some sweat from trickling into his eye. The compliment was nice but he knew lifting wasn't so much his thing. He was much better at running, jumping and ducking. Sprints versus raw power. He could thank Brazil for that…

"So how much can he lift?" Tony was asking now as he unloaded the bar.

"The Hulk?" Bruce clarified, though he didn't have much doubt.

"Yeah," Tony nodded.

The physicist wet his lips thoughtfully, entertaining his friend despite his dislike for the topic. "I'm not exactly sure. But he can lift a tank. That's about… seventy tons, give or take?"

The billionaire whistled. "Man, I've really got my work cut out for me."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. The blasé way he'd said it hinted he maybe hadn't meant to say it out loud at all. "What?" Bruce asked.

Tony startled out of his thoughts. "Oh. Uhh, nothing really. Just another project I've got goin'. It's nothing major. Don't worry."

Bruce hummed out an unconvinced note.

"We're hittin' up the beach next, right?" Tony's voice chased away his wayward brooding. The innovator was already peeling the damp wifebeater over his head. "The surf is gonna feel reaaally good after _that_ workout."

"It will," Bruce agreed, a smile returning to his features. He was glad Tony was beginning to follow their routine himself rather than having to be coerced into it or constantly reminded. Bruce chuckled to himself; it was funny how in order to make sure Tony got better, he was basically resort-vacationing himself.

"I'm gonna whip up a quick protein shake," Tony said as he exited the weight room in a sprite, buoyant fashion. "You want one?" he thought to call back.

"Please," Bruce accepted. He traced his friend's steps to the kitchen at a decidedly more relaxed pace, still recovering from light-headedness. He leaned into the dining room table as Tony stretched up to grab the whey protein mix from where it was stored on top of the refrigerator.

"Well, what do we have here…?" Pepper's voice surprised them both as the CEO entered the room. Her green eyes trailed down and back up her boyfriend's half-clothed form; Bruce caught the good thorough look she took.

"Just two genius-level scientists, doing more than just flexing their brains," Tony delivered with a smirk as he spun the lid off the top of the jug and accidentally dropped it.

The woman laughed, folding over slightly in the middle. "Tony, that has to be about the corniest thing I've heard all morning."

Tony bent to retreive the fallen lid. "Sorry, Pep, best I could do under the circumstances. Time constraints, insufficient planning." He grabbed two cups out of the cabinet and scooped a measuring-cupful of powder into each.

Pepper shifted her weight from one leg to the other, gaze still locked on the man. "Well, were you planning anything this evening?" she inquired with a noticeable lilt.

Noticeable to Bruce anyway. Tony shrugged, "Just a little lab work. I've got some more designs I'd like to digitally model to see if they're worth implementing."

Disappointment was written all over her face. Of course that hadn't been at all what she'd been looking to hear-- she'd come on to Tony hard enough that he would've had to be both deaf and blind to not realize what _she_ was proposing they do that evening. Either that or a work-a-holic engineer, apparently. The physicist cleared his throat. "Which shouldn't take any more than a couple of hours," he interjected, "So you can be assured Mr. Stark will be coming to bed at a reasonable hour."

The billionaire rolled his eyes as he stirred his drink with a spoon. "You're like the father I never had," he snorted, continuing under his breath, "…giving me a bedtime…" He tipped his head back and started chugging.

Bruce ignored this comment and looked back to Pepper. "We're heading down to the beach; would you like to join us, Miss Potts?" At least he could invite her along for a bit of the fun and maybe Tony would eventually get the idea.

"Mm!" the innovator pulled the beverage away from his mouth excitedly; now sporting a milk mustache to go along with his real one. "Yeah, you wanna, Pep?" he echoed with a grin, his tongue lapping out to clean his upper lip. "Huh? Huh? Huh?"

The doctor didn't know if it was her boyfriend's enthusiasm that won her over or something else. "Well, I have just a couple emails I need to shoot off first, but I'd be happy to meet you down there in a few minutes." Her smile was beaming and appreciative.

"See ya then, babe," Tony winked, going over to the sink to rinse his glass. "C'mon, Bruce, let's get going!" he hooked their arms.

"What about my shake?" Bruce asked, looking down into his full glass.

"You can take it with you," Tony gave a dismissive gesture. And with that the man drug him off in the direction of the bedroom to go get their swimtrunks.

\--

Bruce couldn't say that Tony was in any way unprepared for beach-going. After they'd pitched the large umbrella, set the cooler of various beverages in the created shade, unfolded their full-length slated beach chairs and laid their towels out on them, they got to putting on sunscreen. Tony was applying a low SPF, enough so he wouldn't risk burning but would still benefit from the ultraviolet. The physicist watched out of the corner of his eye as Tony rubbed the lotion into his skin, thinking again to what had transpired in the Stark kitchen.

Testing his tongue on the roof of his mouth a couple of times, Bruce spoke up. "When was the last time you and Pepper had sex?"

The question clearly caught the man off-guard, as instead of squeezing the small dollop of lotion into his palm that he'd meant to, he nearly emtpied half the bottle all in one go. Tony began to laugh awkwardly. He closed the cap and responded. "God… I dunno…" He thought about it a little harder. "I guess… I guess a couple weeks?" he ventured uncertainly, beginning to slather the mound of sunscreen onto a shoulder.

That was quite a long time for a couple sharing a bed under the same roof. Bruce felt his brow crinkle. "Which of you usually initiates?" he prodded further.

"We both did," Tony responded immediately. " _Do_ ," he corrected with almost the same immediacy, shaking his head from side to side roughly. "Both of us initiate. It just…" his lower lip pulled down and to the side, "ahh… hasn't happened in awhile is all."

"Does it have anything to do with you being down in the lab all night?" Bruce asked completely point-blank.

"Hey, there's no rule saying she can't come down to the basement so we could do it on a work bench," Tony countered, lifting a forefinger at him.

The physicist gave in to the chuckle forming in his chest, Tony _would_ pose that as a solution to the problem-- Hell, it was probably a sexual fantasy of his, it wouldn't surprise Bruce any. "No, there's not, but it's hardly the best place for intimacy." Women were not typically receptive to intercourse in sterile, fluorescent environments. Betty had proved to be the exception to the rule, though that was neither here nor there.

"Neither was on the conferrence table fifteen minutes before the weekly meeting, but you didn't hear me complaining," Tony shot back with half a smirk. Bruce just lifted an eyebrow at him condescendingly, getting the feeling the other man was missing the point. The engineer's hands both shot up defensively, "Alright, I get it. You think Pep and I should have sex. I can take a hint."

"More than that," the doctor said, "I want you to go to bed tonight and I want you to initiate. What you do and however long you do it for is up to you, but you both _desperately_ need the sexual contact."

"Is'at an observation, doc?" Tony leered.

"Actually, yes," Bruce responded with a light chuckle, stretching out on his chair.

Tony scratched at the back of his head. "This is actually… well, it's a little embarrassing…" he began, and he cleared his throat not once but twice. "But I, uh… I've been having a little…" his glance flicked down to his bathing shorts briefly, "trouble, what with the stress and all."

Laughing would have been rude, though the majority of his amusement had not to do with the problem itself but with the way Tony was skirting around saying it. It was a totally normal bodily reaction to stress or sleep-depriviation. Certainly nothing to be ashamed about. He remained frank, "There is the option of prescription medicine for erectile dysfunction--"

Tony shh'd him like he'd just said a bad word. "Bruce, _please_. I'm not even fifty yet, I don't think I need--"

"Heyyy!" Pepper's voice travelled across the sand in cheerful greeting. Both scientists sat up to turn around; Tony dropped his sunglasses down his nose to stare over them. The woman was in a rather revealing orange bikini, the top of which secured around her neck with a strap that attached to a decorative ring in the center between her breasts, the bottom just barely holding onto her hips where it was tied on either side.

Beside him, Tony shifted in his seat and coughed. He muttered across to him, "You know what? I think I'm gonna be juuust fine for tonight."


	8. Chapter 8

_"So Fury's not after the monster."_

_It's almost foreign feeling. Conversing with someone in English after so long. Like his tongue is too thick and heavy in his mouth as it presses to his palate then flattens back out in the cove of his lower jaw to form the word at the end of the sentence. It's not that he's forgotten anything, but perhaps after a full year here, without having to pick up and run, he hadn't presumed he'd be using English again so soon. He knows handfuls of languages, but transitioning between them has never been particularly fluid-- it requires conscious effort. He deals in the abstract first, concrete second and Romanoff's jade eyes don't so much as blink._

_"Not that he's told me."_

_"And he tells you everything?"_

_"Talk to Fury. He needs you on this."_

_This discussion has gone on long enough. He's not going to let himself be strung along. Even if she's telling the truth about gamma signatures and tracking algorithms, he's helping_ here _in Kolkata, curing disease, adminstering vaccinations. If there's one thing the Hulk has given him, it's immunity, and he's putting that to good effect where others might seek to test and experiment on the serum in his veins. "He needs me in a cage?"_

_"No one's going to put you in a--"_

_The legs of the rickety table almost give out when he slams his palms down on it. "Stop lying to me!!"_

_There's something about the way her Glock 26 snaps up and the mortality written in her eyes that changes the atmosphere of the room. Natasha is defensive, not offensive. Finger still on the trigger, but waiting for his move. She doesn't want to shoot, but she will if she thinks she has to. But he thinks now she won't have to._

_He draws back and apologizes. "I'm sorry, that was mean."_

The subtle sound of the air conditioner kicking on managed to slip past his concentration. He could hear the air eking out the slatted vents above him, smell its filtered freshness; it carried a light coolness with it downward toward the ground where he was sitting, tickling his bare toes. He wriggled them just slightly. Considering the early hour at which the A/C had turned on, Bruce concluded that JARVIS had been correct about his weather prediction: this afternoon was going to be another 'scorcher'-- at least, as far as Malibu was concerned. Adjusting to the climate had been no problem. Adjusting to the graciousness of his two hosts, however, was a little more difficult for him to get used to…

He exhaled a final breath and opened his eyes. Enough thinking about that; it was time to make good use of another day.

He got changed and headed out to the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast. Tony and Pepper had of course allowed him to utilize all the amenities of the house during his stay. He leaned down to grab a pan out of a lower cabinet and hummed to himself-- speaking of the two of them, he wondered how last night had gone…

He'd just broken some eggs into the skillet when he heard soft, padding footfalls approaching behind him.

"Good morning, Dr. Banner," Pepper said as she entered the kitchen, barefeet skimming across the linoleum; she bee-lined for the coffee maker. The physicist glanced over at her. Though it was nine o'clock, she was still in her pajamas, but Bruce was liable to guess the hard-working CEO took the well-deserved liberty of a 'lazy' Sunday morning by not getting dressed right away. Her greeting was less formal sounding and more casual, he noted, and despite her lack of make-up, her face was radiant.

"Good morning, Miss Potts," Bruce returned with a smile. He went back to stirring his eggs, combining the whites and yolks as they curdled over the heat. "I trust… you had a good evening?" he inquired off-handedly.

The woman's loose hair fell over her shoulder as turned her head so her green eyes could lock with his, a mischievous crinkle to her lips. "I have a feeling you _know_ that we _both_ did."

He allowed the chuckle forming in his chest to win over, dipping his head to break eye-contact. "Well, I'm glad to hear it, in any case," he answered elusively.

"And yourself?" Pepper surprised him by asking. Her stance was cocked somewhat, one hand leaning into the counter, the other on her hip.

Bruce swabbed his thumb across his jaw in thoughtful chagrin, trying to think how best to answer that. "It was pleasant. As always, Miss Potts," he responded tactfully.

"Well…" the CEO went back to watching her coffee percolate in the mug beneath the machine, "if there's anything that would make your stay more comfortable, don't hesitate to let me or Mr. Stark know." Though the words were business-like once more, she delivered them almost flippantly, teasing him, no doubt for his continued formality. He did feel a little silly now. He knew she thought of him as less of a guest and more of a friend, and that dichotomy was growing daily.

"I will," the doctor assured her, knowing full well he was unlikely to make a request, but appreciative nonetheless. "Thanks," he tacked on.

A couple minutes later and they both sat down at the dining table, Pepper with her mug of coffee and Bruce with his plate of scrambled eggs and some orange juice. He wondered if Tony would be joining them soon or if he was too beat from the prior evening to crawl his way out of bed. The thought amused him as he forked his meal into his mouth. The CEO activated the flatscreen across the room, setting it to a news station at a low volume, loud enough to be discernible but quiet enough it wouldn't be disruptive to any dialogue they might share. She seemed interested in the report for a minute or two and then she set down her mug and regarded him again. "I have to say, you have me convinced, doctor," she said matter-of-factly.

The physicist felt his eyebrows lift. "Of?"

"That you're a miracle-worker."

A pang of self-consciousness swept through him, making him wince away from her gaze ever so slightly. "You ah… might be giving me a bit too much credit…" he said. Tony's mental and physical health were improving, but it was far from a 'miracle', even _if_ it was just more of her dry-humor he was failing to pick up on.

"Surely I'm not the first to tell you that," Pepper's head tipped. "What with your line of work," she added on in explanation, taking a quick sip.

Miss Potts was perceptive as well as sharp. The physicist poked at his eggs with the tines of his fork as he drifted off into thought. The first time had been when he'd saved a little girl. He'd only been in Kolkata for a few weeks, and his services weren't yet common knowledge on the street. The girl's parents were quite impoverished, and couldn't afford any of the local doctors-- as a result, her case of bacterial pneumonia had been allowed to settle deep in her lungs without medical attention. She'd been feverish… fatigued to the point where she barely had the strength to cough; her immune system couldn't fight the infection alone. He honestly hadn't been sure himself if he'd be able to save her, but he'd administered what antibiotics he could and kept her under his observation and care, and gradually the six-year old's strength had returned. Her parents couldn't stop expressing their tearful gratitude, and he'd had to politely reject several of their offers of livestock as they tried to find some way to repay him.

Since then there'd been numerous other situations like it. But it didn't really make him feel like any kind of 'miracle-worker'. There were always more sick people, more opportunities to save lives with modern medicine and practices. He'd lost plenty of people too. "No, you're not the first," Dr. Banner merely answered, going back to his breakfast.

The woman clicked her tongue, crossing a leg over a knee. "Well, even so, I think you're both very admirable."

He chuckled. "Tony pulls it off better than I do."

Pepper gave only a slight pause before correcting. "I wasn't talking about Tony."

His orange juice stopped halfway to his mouth. If she wasn't talking about Tony, that meant she was talking about--

"We have a serious problem," the billionaire stormed into the room, obliterating whatever Bruce might have been considering saying, "A gross oversight." The man stopped a few feet away from the table and stomped down his foot. "I demand it be seen to at once!"

Bruce and Pepper exchanged glances. "What's that?" the redhead indulged his melodramatics, lowering her Stark Industries logo mug.

"I don't smell pancakes," the engineer said with all the seriousness of a man depraved, his nostrils flaring as his eyes darted about the kitchen. "Where are they?" He jumped forward and lifted Bruce's plate to peek under it.

"All I made were eggs," Dr. Banner leaned away, rubbing his hand casually over his mouth to hide a smile.

"There's coffee brewing, if you'd like some," Pepper added. Tony's lower lip began to tremble and his eyes widened to the point where the entirety of his irises were showing. He wasn't sparing her any of the theatrics. "Oh _all right_ ," she caved to her boyfriend's whimpering, "I'll make you some pancakes." She pointed at the table, laying down the conditions of the deal. "But you're going to sit down and stay there until they're ready. If you try to run off to play with your friend so help me…"

Tony plopped into his chair, scooched up to the table's edge, sat up straight and laced his hands on the tabletop. The effect would have only been complete if a halo had been projected over his head. "Wouldn't dream of it, babe," he smiled winningly.

"I somehow doubt that," Pepper shot back before turning to go to the pantry.

The billionaire didn't contest that. He turned to regard him. "So, what were _you_ up to last night, Brucie?"

He wondered what answer Tony thought he was going to give. He hummed. "Doing more reading on the applications of Nanorobotics."

"Oh, so you had nearly as much fun as us then," Tony cracked, elbowing him in the arm. He heard Pepper give a snort as she poured the pancake mix into a bowl and began whisking. "Gotta admit," the man went on, stroking his goatee, "not a subject I know much about. Currently," he added quickly, leaning his chair back on the two rear legs as he propped his feet on the table, "I could fix that overnight."

"I have no doubt," Bruce smiled.

The television in front of them switched from the anchors to an on-the-scene longshot of a firetruck that was being used to hose down some hills that were aflame. "Hey, JARVIS, turn it up, will ya?" Tony requested.

The volume bar increased. "Firefighters have been scrambling in the Santa Monica Mountains. A brushfire that started three days ago continues to rage-- reports suggest nearly 3,000 acres have already been consumed in the disaster, and projections estimate it could be the worst fire to hit the region since 1993." The news station switched to show the footage from twenty years prior: flames licking up into the air, coughing up black smoke… a long pan across a canyon charred and still smouldering. "Unexpected strong winds from the west have only made the fire more difficult to contain. The small city of Topanga lies directly in the fire's path, and should the devastation continue at the same rate, residents may be forced to evacuate their homes. The local firefighting force has stated that every effort has been made to--"

Tony slapped his palms down on the kitchen table as he stood abruptly. "Bruce! Let's go!" he proclaimed.

The physicist performed a slow blink, looking away from the news story and to his friend. "Uh… where are we going…?"

The engineer motioned his hand toward the screen as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Topanga."

Hard grooves cut into the doctor's forehead. "Tony, if you're suggesting we--"

"Help?" the man finished his sentence for him. His tone turned sarcastic, "Uh… yeah! They could really use it, you heard what that report just said!"

Bruce stood from the table himself now, holding both hands out in front of him. "If _you_ want to go, then that's perfectly fine." Honestly, he didn't know what help Tony thought he could be, unless he was attending to burn victims, but the fire hadn't reached the outskirts of the city yet; there weren't likely to be any casualties of that kind. And if Tony was talking about having the Other Guy help somehow, then Bruce really didn't know what to think.

"Seriously? _This_ again?" Tony folded his arms with an angry frown. He launched into accusations. "You're pulling this 'No, I'm just gonna stand on the sidelines.' shit _again??_ "

"Tony," he said the other scientist's name slowly to get his point across, "I. Can't. Help."

The billionaire gave a sharp snort. "That's bullshit, Bruce, and you know it. Because I saw how an entire military helicopter was about to burst into a massive fiery explosion and the Hulk put it out by slamming his big green hands together-- _poof!_ Just like that!" he emphasized, miming the action out in front of him. "So, you know what? You're right. _You_ can't help, but _he_ can."

Bruce's breath cut short. He wondered how and when Tony had gotten his hands on that particular footage from the Harlem incident. The Hulk _had_ done exactly what Tony said, out of desperation to save the woman Bruce loved who'd been standing in the helicopter leaking fuel. He'd never quite understood why, other than the fact that she'd been the first to show the green monster kindness. Bruce was grateful beyond words that he had.

"Fine, whatever," Tony turned on his heel dismissively when he didn't respond. " _I'm_ going," the billionaire called over his shoulder as he hurried in the direction of the basement. Bruce lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, exhaling a sigh. He knew he was really letting Tony down on this one. Yes, he couldn't deny that the Hulk had been helpful on _occasion_ , but that didn't warrant letting him out at every little sign of trouble.

When he moved to take his dishes to the sink, he caught Pepper surreptitiously peering at him, but she quickly made to pretend she hadn't been, returning her focus to pouring batter into the frying pan. He could tell from the way her lips were both pressed tightly together that she was holding her tongue.

Bruce spoke up softly after a moment, "Admirable, you said."

She turned to him. "I don't think you give him enough credit," the CEO said.

He hadn't anticipated having his words turned around on him; his head lowered as he let out a chagrinned laugh, momentarily tongue-tied. "Maybe not." He looked back in the direction of the stairs, weighing this decision the way he'd weighed the one that brought him here to begin with. "And… _someone_ has to keep an eye on Tony." He already knew he could trust the Other Guy to do that.

A smile began to grow on her lips.

"I hope this doesn't count as the two of us 'running off to play'," Bruce added wryly.

Pepper's green eyes sparkled. "Don't worry," she played with the solidifying edges of the batter with the spatula, "His pancakes will be on the table and waiting for your return."

"However many you're making for him, quadruple it," Bruce said. She looked at him strangely. "Trust me," he imparted as he left her, hurrying down the stairs after his friend.


	9. Chapter 9

When he keyed into the lab, he found Tony in the process of tearing it up. Bruce's eyebrows lifted as he watched an incomplete helmet sail by and roll to stop near his feet. "I _know_ it was here… now where the Hell…" the engineer swore as he tossed several more objects and parts over his shoulder. With a sweeping motion of his arm, he cleared the entire cluttered workspace onto the floor, ignoring the banging and clattering it caused. He started rifling through the drawers, only to quickly change his mind and instead remove each from the desk and upend their contents onto the tabletop.

This was the danger of having one too many projects, Bruce mused. He'd been there himself back at Culver University: at least back at the time, the burgeoning field of gamma-radiation had been rife with new potential applications (essentially every researchers wet-dream), and even working around the clock there wasn't time enough to devote to exploring even a fraction of it. He had _perhaps_ been a little better organized than Tony was, however. Bruce stopped a little ways behind him and coughed into his fist.

Tony swiveled, straightening up as he looked him over toe to head. "You in?" he asked warily, eyebrow cocked.

"Yeah, I'm in," the physicist confirmed.

The man's smile couldn't have been more triumphant. He readily resumed his searching.

"Looking for something?" Bruce couldn't help but pose the obvious question.

"Not just any something…" Tony spoke distractedly, moving to search another desk. "Something very specific… _Aha!_ " he proclaimed, hands shooting out. He held the small object aloft: a titanium bracelet. "Each of the suits has its own digital signature," he explained as he took off his current one and slid the one he'd been so frantically searching for sideways onto his wrist, "haven't gotten around to combining 'em into a sort of all-in-one yet."

Bruce's face quirked with interest. "And which of your suits does this powerband go to?"

"I'll show ya," the innovator winked. He motioned him along into a different section of the laboratory, clearly excited by this chance to show off one of his toys. Standing behind glass were half a dozen completed suits of armor, arranged in a semi-circle. Bruce recognized the Mark 7 among them-- it had been restored from the damage it had taken in New York and was now likely retired or simply a fall-back. Tony sauntered over to the second-to-rightmost and began fiddling with the instrument panel beside it. Before Bruce could ask what was special about the armor in front of them, the display case swiveled, rotating to a different one of three. Make that _eighteen_ completed suits of armor. Assuming the man hadn't hid even _more_ somewhere else.

"Aluminum and fiberglass, double-insulated," Tony said as the glass drew back; he gave the armor a doting pat. "Ninety-nine point eight percent non-flammable _and_ …" he took a stance in front of the armor, facing away from it, "remarkably high heat capacity." He activated his wristband and a web of red laser scanned up from the floor over his body; mechanical arms reached out from panels in the floor to begin assembling the armor onto him piece by piece. When the helmet clicked on, he pushed the faceplate up to grin, "I could stand in the middle of an inferno and not notice a thing."

The physicist leaned forward and tapped his finger against the chestpiece; it felt robust enough. It was an intelligent solution to iron, which would practically broil the man alive if temperatures were too extreme, but the aluminum-fiberglass mix would stay cool up to 500° fahrenheit and higher and keep the engineer inside insulated from the heat, for a time at least. "For how long?" Bruce couldn't help his scientific curiosity.

"A couple minutes, maybe more." Tony shrugged inside the suit. "Depends on the heat involved. But as long there isn't continual exposure, it's virtually indestructible by flame."

"Impressive," Bruce nodded.

"The other nice thing is how light-weight it is," Tony went on. "Only eighty-five pounds, total." The man bounced up and down to show him. "No hydraulics necessary to assist motion." He moved his elbow and knee joints. "And you wouldn't believe the acceleration speed I get in this baby as a result. Zero to Mach 1 in five seconds. Those're some serious G-forces. Though," he chuckled then, "single downside: the Hulk could probably smash me on his forehead like a Coke can."

Bruce just shook his head, trying not to laugh at the joke. "You've tested it?" he asked instead.

"Done plenty of laboratory testing, yeah, of course, but today it gets its very first field test." A smile spread across Tony's face. "So, ready to get going?" he asked as he activated the large panel door on the other end of the room that opened up to the cliffs the mansion was built upon.

"Yeah, I'll follow you," Bruce nodded, quickly kicking off his shoes (if he was going to make the conscious decision to 'Hulk-out', he could at least spare some of his clothing). He wet his lips as he unbuttoned his shirt to remove it as well. "You have a plan?"

Tony nodded and lifted off from the ground, hovering with the repulsors built in to his hands and feet. "I'll tell you when we get there." With that his faceplate fell back over his face and he blasted out of the lab.

With one final concentrated breath, Bruce let the monster within him rise to the surface and take over.

\--

The Hulk kept his eyes to the sky on the man of metal as he bounded after him on foot. He was able to keep up with his cruising speed taking long strides and leaps over the gullies and dips in the hills, his big feet taking chunks out of the dirt as he went. It felt good to run like this, _towards_ something instead of away from it. They were getting closer. The smoke was closer. The Hulk gave a snort out through his nostrils.

Tony dropped out of the sky, landing on the top of the highest ridge; the monster halted beside him moments later. What lie beneath them was much like what they'd seen on the news-- flames in all directions, consuming the land while strategically placed firetrucks attempted to keep it at bay. A helicopter carrying a bambi bucket flew by, dropping the water it was carrying before turning back to go get more. They were working tirelessly, but the fire was relentless.

"Plan," Hulk snorted.

"Right," Tony acknowledged with a ready nod. "I fly low enough, fast enough, I should be able to draw a temporary 'line' through the flame; I can segment the big fire into smaller ones-- you followin' me, big guy?" His green chin nodded up and down and Tony went on. "I'm thinking…" he weighed his hands out in front of him, palms-up, "maybe half an acre a segment? Roughly? Not sure what that 'clap' of yours can do. But, point is, we move enough air quick enough over the fire, it's gonna put it out, that's simple flame propagation stuff," he waved the scientific aspect off casually, "Pretty much like blowing out a giant-ass birthday candle."

The Hulk gave another nod, flexing his fingers. "Good plan."

"Glad ya like it," the innovator smirked, lowering his mask once more. "JARVIS, gimme a grid to work with," he commanded the AI installed within his helmet.

"At once, sir," it responded and the armored man took off with enough speed and force to create a gust that caused the Hulk to fall backward a step. Within seconds Tony was flying headlong through the sweeping inferno, extinguishing a path behind him with his jet stream. He doubled back around to begin cutting blocks from what he'd already separated off.

Now it was his turn. With a shrugging roll of his right rotator cuff, the Hulk sprung into action, barreling down the hillside. He skid to a halt a few feet back from the corner of the nearest square of fire that had been left for him. The heat of the flames made him wince, but he spread his arms out wide to either side, cupping his fingers together. Using all the strength he had in his pectorals, he slammed his hands and forearms together out in front of him. The air made a loud _WHUUUSH!_ swallowing the fire with it quick as an eyeblink. A grin pulled his lips apart and he made for the next half acre. Tony gave him a thumbs up as he went whizzing by.

It took almost the rest of the morning to combat the fire, systematically extinguishing square by square. When he blew out the last half acre, it felt like his arms were bruised on the inside from the elbow down from being repeatedly slapped together with such tremendous force. His eyes and throat stung from exposure to all the smoke, and soot had stuck to his sweaty skin, in some places so thick it wasn't clear he was green underneath it. The Hulk gave a weary but satisfied grunt as his friend lowered out of the sky to clap him on the back. "Great job, big guy," Tony's mask came up so he could impart a smile-- his own skin was covered in perspiration, running out of his hair line and down the sides of his face. Even with his fire-proof suit it had really gotten warm. "Ugh, let's just skip the sun-bathing today, what'd'ya say?"

The green monster gave a hearty chuckle. He lifted his own hand to place it upon his friend's shoulders in a similar patting gesture-- though Tony's knees just about gave out under the weight. "Tony do good too. New suit work good," Hulk commented. The man beamed like he'd been handed an award.

They stood on the ridge and watched from afar as the firefighters now began to do rounds to ensure everything was completely put out and nothing could reignite. The situation looked to be under control-- they shouldn't be needed any longer. "House," Hulk rumbled.

"Think we should head back?" Tony asked.

The beast pat his stomach. "Pepper said food."

The billionaire's eyes turned to dinner plates, visibly beginning to salivate. "Say no more. I'm right behind ya."

\--

_"Ugh, this is a_ disaster, _remind me to never come here again."_

_Tony's flippant attitude and word choice earns him two glares across the table from Romanoff and Rogers, and a couple raised eyebrows each from Barton and Thor. Bruce finds himself chuckling, and when he tries to stop because he knows it's inappropriately timed, the chuckle becomes a full-fledged laugh instead. "If you're not going to have the rest, I'll take it," he offers. He's weary, but he's starving, and several hours as the Hulk fighting an army from space will make anything taste good, even if the pita bread is half-stale._

_"Have it," the innovator makes a face that involves sticking out his tongue as he shoves the plastic basket containing his half-consumed shawarma wrap toward him, beginning to clean off his fingers on a crummy paper napkin. "I'll just hit up BK on the way back. This place is so getting a review from me on Yelp. Dry, unflavorful meals," he makes a show of glancing around, "dining lobby in severe need of refurbishment."_

_Bruce has never seen anything wrong with using humor to diffuse a tense situation, though with all the paramedics running around and sirens wailing in the streets, it's going to take a lot of humor to diffuse. Maybe that's the thing though-- the levity is so out of place that it's absurd; it_ shouldn't _be funny, so it is. Or maybe he and Tony share the same dark sense of humor because the others at the table still aren't laughing. He stuffs the last bite of wrap into his mouth and stacks the empty basket onto the other three at his side. His stomach growls for more and he wonders if he has time to order another to-go…_

"Bruce. Big guy. Hey."

Tony's voice brought him back enough to realize he'd been staring blankly into space for the past who-knew-how-long. He shook his head clear of the daze he'd fallen into and looked up at the other scientist; he'd had enough time to de-suit, back to his tank top and baggy sweat pants. "Ugh, sorry," Bruce apologized, steepling his fingers against the side of his head. He must have gone partially unconscious upon transforming back, he reasoned. Not an unprecedented circumstance; still he hoped he hadn't kept his friend waiting too long.

"Nah, don't be. Now, upsie-daisy," Tony offered him a hand up and he took it gratefully, only noticing when he reached out just how ash-covered his entire upper body was. Bruce held onto his stretched pants with his other hand as Tony pulled him upright, deciding against putting his shirt back on until he'd gotten a shower. Brunch was going to take a much higher priority to that however-- the gnawing in his stomach had escalated to the point where it was physically painful. They moved to head back through the lab towards the stairs.

He waffled on the question at least three times in his head. "So… how did he do?" he inquired uncertainly, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. He could fuzzily recall the journey on-foot through the mountains and snatches of roaring flame all around him, but precious little else.

"Besides phenomenal?" Tony glanced at him with a readily-cocked eyebrow. The engineer lifted his chin to scratch at the scruff forming under his Van Dyke. "He did the bulk of the firefighting, to be honest. I just kinda delineated where to go." He smiled. "We made a good team, Brucie."

The doctor couldn't help but smile back when Tony was looking at him like that. "Well, I'm just glad he could be of help," he nodded.

Once they'd gotten back upstairs, they re-entered the kitchen they'd so hastily left from; Miss Potts was still there in her pajamas, but her laptop was open on the table and she had a cellular phone to her ear. She'd also used a pencil to put her hair in a makeshift bun behind her head. "Yes," she spoke in answer to whoever was on the line, nodding her head, "You'll be hearing back from me as soon as I know. Mhm, goodbye." The CEO ended the call and turned around to give them both a look-over. "I'll have you know that you two just turned my Sunday off into a half work day."

Bruce gave a light cough and reached up to rub the back of his head sheepishly; the action caused soot trapped in his hair to dust the ground where he was standing and he abruptly stopped before he could make a worse mess.

"Sorry 'bout that, Pep," Tony chuckled.

"No, you know it's fine," she assured him, turning to go back over to the stove. "It's something I've come to expect having a ridiculously photogenic hero for a boyfriend."

Tony slid into his seat with a grin. "And I _am_ all of those things." Bruce chuckled at his friend's shameless egotism and took his former seat at the table as well. The television was still on, he noticed then, though it had been muted, and he blinked in ready surprise as some footage clearly shot from a helicopter played showing his alter ego clapping out fire as Iron Man zinged in and out of the frame. They were definitely operating as a unit; Bruce had never seen the Other Guy so… for lack of a better word, organized. It gave him significant pause.

Pepper returned bearing two plates piled high with pancakes. Tony's expression turned to that of open-mouthed glee as she placed one in front of each of them. "I kept them in the oven on a low heat, so they should still be warm," she said. "And there's more where that came from. Syrup and whip cream are in the fridge." Her laptop chimed with a received email notification and she shook her head, going over to deal with it.

"You're the best thing that could ever happen to a guy. Seriously," Tony said, hopping up to get said condiments. He planted a kiss on her cheek on his way, and Bruce saw her try not to smile too broadly to the compliment and affection. The physicist grabbed the top pancake on the stack and tore into it with his teeth, not able to wait a moment longer. Tony kicked the fridge closed with his foot as he turned and he laughed when he saw just how voracious he was. "Should I even bother bringing you a knife and fork?" he asked.

Bruce covered his mouth as he swallowed the giant bite he'd just taken. "Sorry," he apologized for the impoliteness, "Yeah. Please." He immediately resumed eating.

"Strawberries?" Tony asked then, holding up the plastic container of the fruits. Bruce nodded and the innovator brought everything over. He gave the Reddi-wip canister a few shakes before turning it upside down to spray a mountain of the fluffy white cream on top of his stack.

Pepper began to list off, "The mayor of Topanga would like to honor you for your service to their town…"

Tony snorted. "Tell him to keep his funding. And that I'm donating a firetruck to add to the fleet."

"Alright," the CEO nodded, making note.

"The Los Angeles Times would like you to come in for an interview," the redhead spoke as she typed. Tony made a disinterested, confirming-type noise through half-chewed pancake and whipped cream. Her green eyes lifted to stop unexpectedly on the doctor. "They requested you as well, Dr. Banner."

Bruce narrowly avoided choking on his food. The newspaper wanted to do an article on him-- on the _Hulk?_ Visibility and public-exposure were two of the last things he needed. He attempted to hide the nervous jitter in his hands, "And… what did you tell them?"

"I simply informed them that, as you have no affiliation with Stark Industries, it would be at your sole discretion and that I was unable to disclose any of your personal or professional contact information, but would forward the message to see if you were interested," Pepper said, eyes not leaving the screen in front of her and fingers not leaving the keys.

Still a little shaken, but greatly relieved by how she'd gone about handling the situation, he bowed his head in deference. He couldn't express gratitude enough for her understanding and respect for his privacy. "Thank you, Miss Potts. I'll take it under consideration."

"Just let me know what you decide," the woman nodded. "If possible they'd like to interview today before closing so they can run the article in tomorrow morning's paper."

Tony looked back and forth between the two of them, smacking his lips loudly through his food. He motioned his knife casually at Bruce, "Well, I'll go if he goes."

"Tony!" the CEO chided.

"What? No pressure or anything. But you start saving the world on a regular basis and you have to deal with this kind of thing. Just comes with the territory. Besides, it's just a few questions. Nothing big and scary. You're in, you're out in half an hour." He bit into a juicy strawberry.

Perhaps Tony had a semblance of a point, Bruce thought. Interviewing could even be an opportunity to explain some of the little-known nuances about the Other Guy, clear up any misconceptions about him. They weren't looking to indict him like times prior. And anything he didn't feel comfortable answering, he could just refrain from commenting upon. Most of the limelight would be on Iron Man anyway. "Alright," he said slowly and both pairs of eyebrows, red and brown lifted in surprise, "I'll go."

"Not like that you won't," Tony said, commenting on his current appearance. "I'm taking you to see my tailor. I owe you a pair of pants already, so I may as well buy you an entire ensemble."

Bruce hummed, devouring the last pancake on his plate and rising to go get more. Today was shaping out to be quite a bit different than he'd thought it would be.


	10. Chapter 10

He'd had a near-perfectly fitted dress suit to wear to the L.A. Times headquarters for his and Tony's appointment at five o'clock-- both a jacket and slacks in a 'dark chocolate' shade (Pepper and Tony had agreed it complemented his eyes and the hair on his head that _wasn't_ greying) with conservative, slenderizing pinstripes, a pair of matching leather dress shoes, and a tie (that Tony insisted _must_ be green) to top it all off. And with his hair styled by 'the master himself' (as Tony demanded he be referred to), Bruce had certainly felt more dapper than he'd felt in months… though it could be more appropriate to say years. When the engineer stepped him in front of the full-length mirror, he barely recognized himself from his usual semi-disheveled state.

His appearance had lent him a kind of confidence for the interview itself, able to leave his nervousness at the door and answer all the questions thoughtfully and calmly during the hour they were there. Bruce was on the ball enough to figure out that ultimately, that had been his friend's goal-- not to lavish him with a too-expensive suit, but to buy him that sense of confidence, so he could do well. And it was very appreciated; Bruce had let him know.

Out of everything they'd been asked, it would be interesting to see what would make it into the article. But they would know soon enough when the paper arrived on the front porch the next morning.

Bruce wet his thumb and glanced at his watch as he flipped the next page of _Emerging Nanorobotics_. 11:35. He knew he ought to turn in soon but he was glued to the lengthy chapter currently in his hands, and the Stark household didn't lend itself to silent reading most of the time-- at least, not when Tony was awake because it seemed the guy always had something on his mind that he wanted to get _off_ it. Bruce chuckled.

A loud _slam!_ like a piece of furniture hitting the wall echoed down the hall, followed very shortly by a "Son of a bitch!"

The physicist lowered his book and looked over to see the man of the house now babying his left foot as he hobbled in the direction of the basement stairs. "You okay?" Bruce asked.

The billionaire turned around about ninety degrees too far, then adjusted appropriately when he spotted him sitting in the easychair. "Bruce. Shit, I uh… didn't expect to see you up," he said with some surprise, then he went back to muttering, "Just stubbed my little toe is all. I don't know why we're even keeping that bookcase. All it's full of is those old CRC books from grad school; they're so outdated it hurts. Literally. Like, as in, the _literature_ injured my toe just then."

Bruce chuckled, despite his suspicion that Tony had been attempting to sneak down into the lab in the middle of the night without him knowing. He hummed and ear-marked his book, setting it down on the coffee table in front of him as he removed his reading glasses. "Well, sometimes it's nice to keep old reference material, if only to remind us how far we've come." He hooked an ear stem over the flap of his front pocket.

"Guess so," Tony shrugged as he rounded the couch; he teetered a moment before falling into it into a slouch. Bruce knew the other scientist wasn't likely to agree-- it was an innovator's core nature to spend time moving forward rather than looking back. The lack of intellectual dispute on Tony's part however, made him stop to observe the man sitting stone-facedly in front of him. Tony was never this quiet for this long.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Bruce inquired again.

Tony gave a humorless laugh and leaned forward to hide his face in his hands. He shook his head for a moment before glancing back up. "Honestly?" He let the statement hang before looking away. "I had a nightmare," he swallowed roughly.

That explained his somewhat shaken appearance and why he hadn't wanted to just go back to sleep right away. Bruce tapped his thumb on the armrest. Though he was here to help, he wasn't going to prod without the man's express consent. "Did you want to talk about it?" he offered.

"Always tip-toeing, huh, big guy?" Tony joked, but his smile readily faded. He rubbed the nape of his neck. "Yeah, we can… talk about it…" he agreed, albeit uncertainly.

Bruce nodded. "Alright, what happened during the dream?"

"God, this is gonna be some therapist-how-does-that-make-you-feel-type junk, huh?" Tony ran a hand through his hair.

“No, I don’t really do that.” A faint smile tugged the physicist’s lips. “It... wasn’t ever a part of my training.” To be honest, he’d purposely stayed as far from psychology and mental therapy as he could thanks to his own difficult past.

"Mm," Tony nodded, not prying. He twiddled his thumbs out in front of him for awhile before finally committing himself to the question. "Well, it always starts the same…" he began, and already Bruce was taking mental notes-- the engineer was describing a reoccurrence... this wasn’t the first time he’d woken from a nightmare. "I'll just roll over in my sleep and suddenly the whole room feels like it's spinning… and it… well, I guess you could say it influences the dream," Tony explained. "I'm flying, in the Iron Man suit, banking around sharp corners or doing loop-de-loops," he mimed the motion out in front of him with his hand. "Sometimes I'm going so fast I feel like I don't have control anymore… like I might crash-- I mean, I know it's a dream and all, but… well, it's still kind of scary while I'm asleep because I don't remember that I'm asleep, y'know? I wanna stop, put on the 'brakes', b-but I can't…" his words grew riddled with distress, "I just _keep_ spinning, flying faster and faster and then…" his voice cracked.

"And then?" Bruce prompted.

"I just get swallowed up by the blackness of space," he responded, nibbling his lower lip as he brought his hands up to hug at himself. "Just like New York all over again. There's no air, there's no sound-- I can't breathe… I can't even shout-- just millions of miles of nothingness all around me in every direction. And right when I think I'm done for, I jerk awake and I'm back in bed, disoriented and scared as Hell." Tony stared solemnly at the floor, his jaw clenched.

Bruce felt it was fairly safe to conclude that his friend was suffering from some post-traumatic stress in the wake of the event. "I can see why that would be disconcerting," he spoke.

The billionaire shook his head, a hard scoff issuing from his lips. He brushed his fingers back through his hair, "It's maddening, it really is. I've dealt with this kind of thing before. Nightmares. Flashbacks. I fought through it. I got _over_ it. But this is different…" Tony locked eyes with him, voice lowering to just above a whisper, "Bruce, a person doesn't cheat death _three times_."

The physicist went quiet. The man in front of him had confronted his own mortality, gone toe-to-toe with it and come out the victor twice thanks to his engineering prowess. But Tony was right, the most recent time had been different. "You didn't think you'd be coming back," Bruce stated. "It was suicide, and you knew it."

The innovator squared his shoulders, eyes hardened into a glare. "Is it selfish to want a meaningful death? To want to die for something people will _actually_ remember you for??"

He knew the answer Tony wanted to hear, but it was an answer Bruce just couldn't give in good conscience. He spoke with a grim matter-of-factness, "I didn't expect to be remembered when I put that gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger." Tony fell decidedly silent. An ever so soft chuckle left Dr. Banner's lips, "I thought I'd be doing the world a favor. Turns out I was wrong… I had a lot of good left in me." He nodded to himself as he spoke. "And then you and S.H.I.E.L.D. put faith in me… in the Other Guy, really. And maybe…" the physicist took a deep breath and let it out, "maybe I'm learning he has some good in him too."

Tony's brown eyes watered a tad and he ducked his head down, giving a tiny nod and smile. "I'm glad to hear that," the engineer said softly.

It hardly surprised Dr. Banner to be told his friend felt that way. "Today made an impression. Like New York," he admitted. Their gazes reconnected and he returned to the subject of the conversation at hand, "But you've got a lot of good left in you to do too, Tony. We're remembered for what we do during our lifetime, not how we go out on our final act."

"I dunno where you learned to make such good points," the innovator said with a touch of humor. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him, only to snap his hand up, placing it on the side of his head to steady it. "I do wish my head would just stop fucking spinning though."

That complaint had the doctor thinking again. The post-traumatic stress Tony mostly had to sort out on his own, but the sensation the engineer was describing could point to something else entirely in _addition_ to the PTSD. "This affects you frequently?" Bruce inquired. "Bouts of dizziness at night?"

"I… I guess?" Tony offered. "It… well, on days like today, when I actually put on the armor and use it, it's almost guaranteed I'll dream about flying-- as soon as I lay down I can feel the same motions I did while in the air."

Bruce hummed. That aspect seemed normal; almost everyone was familiar with the illusion of movement created by a day spent riding roller coasters or bouncing on a trampoline. Tony's use of the suit likely wasn't correlated to what he was describing. "And on days when you don't? When you spend the day just standing or sitting upright? It still happens?"

The billionaire nodded. "Yeah, sometimes."

"And you still feel dizzy upon waking or when you stand up and move around?"

Tony gave another soft, self-conscious laugh. "Yeah, otherwise I wouldn't be considering donating that entire bookcase. It doesn't last long though. Maybe a few minutes, tops. This one was kinda long, but it's not like there's been any pattern of the duration getting longer or anything like that. Not that I've noticed."

The physicist rubbed his chin while he pondered the information Tony had supplied. This _was_ part of his training. He plucked his glasses back out of his front pocket and put them on as he stood. "Lay flat on your back for me."

Tony blinked twice at the request. "Uh, okay." He did so, stretching out the length of the couch; Bruce came around to where his head was just below the armrest. "Is this a test?" he inquired curiously.

"Yeah," Bruce echoed, putting his hands on either side of Tony's head. "Keep your neck loose; I want you to look straight ahead for me."

"Can I blink?"

"Yeah, just keep your eyes forward." The engineer did as asked and the doctor gently turned the man's head forty-five degrees to the left. Bruce observed silently; Tony's mouth and moustache twitched in compulsion to speak, but he didn't give in to the temptation. "Anything?" Bruce asked.

"Nuh uh," Tony vocalized, rather than shake his head.

Carefully the physicist tilted his head to the other side now. The brown eyes gave a little involuntary twitch to the left, readily re-centering, but then they did it again-- there it was: nystagmus, that was what he'd been checking for. "How about now?" Bruce asked, but he had a suspicion he'd pin-pointed the problem.

"A little… a little dizzy…" Tony admitted.

"Benign paroxysmal positional vertigo," Bruce diagnosed, removing his hands and pulling the glasses back off his face; the other man sat back up.

"Come again?" he asked.

Tony wasn't stupid, it was just a medical term he wasn't familiar with. "Benign paroxysmal positional vertigo, or BPPV. It's an imbalance in your inner ear," the doctor explained, pointing to his own left ear to indicate which of his friend's ears was affected. "The calcium deposits have migrated into your posterior canal which results in an abnormal fluid displacement causing the sensation of vertigo. It's not typically seen in those under the age of sixty." He chuckled softly and continued, "But, ah, head trauma can induce predisposition if there's vascular damage in the area."

"Well, knowing how I conduct trial runs down in the lab… I'm just gonna say: yeah, I've probably suffered a _few_ knocks to the head," Tony chuckled sheepishly, scratching his scalp. "So… is there anything that can be done or am I just kinda stuck with it?"

"High stress and lack of sleep are known to exacerbate the condition, so continued rest and relaxation are going to naturally alleviate the symptoms either partially or fully," Bruce said, motioning in front of him as he sat back down. "There are a couple different 'positional treatments' you can try out as well, they only take ten to fifteen minutes a day and can be conducted on your own once you learn the proper technique. I wouldn't recommend anything else, your case isn't acute enough, at least at this stage, to warrant surgery or any medications."

"Sounds fantastic. You keep a lot of information up there in that big ol' brain of yours, don't'cha, doc?" Tony said with a little quirk of his lips. His gaze dropped down to the book on the coffee table, and he picked it up to leaf through. "And never sparing an opportunity to put more in too, it would seem. You're big on this Nanorobotics stuff, huh?"

"It has the potential to revolutionize modern medicine practices," Bruce expounded. The physicist couldn't help himself from going on at some length. "Think about it: nanobots built less than a micrometer across, small enough to travel through the bloodstream, enabling them to go literally _anywhere_ in the body. And operating on the cellular level, there's little they _couldn't_ do, in theory-- monitor an individual's health, aid the immune system to fight disease, repair damage to organs, the skeletal system, muscles, tendons, fight cancer, perform surgeries without being _invasive_. And the list doesn't end there."

"In theory," the engineer emphasized with a smirk.

Bruce chuckled. "The ratio of research to development _is_ rather skewed at present," he admitted. Tony handed him his anthology back. "But the technology will be an actuality one day," the physicist went on with rare optimism; he pat the cover of the book fondly. "And when it is, it _could_ be a solution for the both of us too, not just for those with run-of-the-mill diseases and conditions." The other scientist looked at him curiously as he went on, "Nanobots could be designed and programmed to remove the shrapnel from your chest, just by targeting the locations of the fragments and breaking them down on a molecular scale."

Tony placed a hand over the glowing circle in his chest. "You're saying I wouldn't need the reactor anymore… I mean, I could keep it to power the suit of course-- it's kinda already built-in, like a part of me-- but the electromagnet underneath would be superfluous." Bruce nodded. "Wow…" Tony breathed out, "that's kind of… intense to think about…" He sat in quiet contemplation a moment before his forehead creased. "So then what about you?"

The physicist hummed a partial chuckle. "Well… for me it would be quite a bit more complex… and costly. My blood is what's irradiated… what serves as the catalyst for the transformation. I spent a long time in Brazil searching for an intravenous 'cure' that would alter the red blood cells back to their original state, but after several failures I concluded the gamma radiation had permanently altered them. If instead they were to be replaced…"

Tony snapped his fingers, coming to the answer before Bruce could fully offer an explanation. "Oxygen-carrying nanobots," he said. "Replicating themselves the way bone marrow creates new blood cells, to replace the models that got damaged or worn-out over time." His eyes lit up, marveling to himself at the concept. "Like an entirely mechanical circulatory system…"

The doctor gave a subtle grin. "There'd be no need to continue searching for a cure that may not even exist."

"Would you… would you actually want to do that…?" the engineer asked quietly. "You know, if you could?"

Bruce felt himself bite the inside of his lip absently. "I'm not sure…" he shrugged. In a lot of ways, he'd managed to make peace with his condition, and for the better part, he'd learned to control it so accidents no longer happened. And with the Hulk doing _good_ now… He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "It doesn't matter much one way or the other anyhow; that level of technology is decades away, at soonest. I only meant to give you a grasp of just how versatile it really could be."

Tony nodded. "Sounds like it. Well, if ya get done with your book and wanna do more 'research', just let JARVIS know and I bet'cha he can hook you up." He winked.

The doctor smiled at the invitation. "I just might do that." He stifled a yawn into his fist. "Thanks."

“You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?” the billionaire laughed.

“I might,” Bruce responded, "It's getting late."

Tony glanced back in the direction of the bedroom. "Yeah, guess you’re right. I oughta go back to bed anyhow. Get some more sleep now that I can. Thanks for listening, by the way. It helps a lot to get some of this stuff off my chest."

“It was my pleasure,” Bruce said as he stood.

Tony stood as well. "Nighty-night, Brucie," he imparted his typical fond farewell.

"Goodnight, Tony," Bruce returned his. The two scientists parted from one another.


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh yeah, front page, baby!"

Bruce's eyes lifted from his toast and jam as Tony slapped the Los Angeles Times down on the breakfast table in front of him. Clad in little more than his silk robe, the engineer leaned into the table's edge to stub his forefinger down on the newspaper. "Check the headline."

Dr. Banner did so, appropriating his spectacles first. The largest text read 'SCIENCE BROS SAVE THE DAY', underneath it the caption 'Iron Man and the Hulk work together to beat the heat out of the Santa Monica Mountains'. He felt a laugh bubble up in his chest. "'Science Bros'?" he asked as he picked the paper up to unfold it.

"Kinda catchy, huh?" Tony said as he meandered over to the pantry.

"It's cute," Bruce agreed, finding it amusing that the news organization had seen fit to give their heroic duo a nickname. He momentarily admired the photograph that had been chosen to accompany the article-- a high-angle shot that got both Iron Man and the Hulk in the frame, as well as much of the cleared grassland behind them.

"Well go on," Tony motioned at him with a bright yellow box of Cheerios, "read it. I haven't yet."

"Oh." Bruce rustled the newsprint to flatten it out and cleared his throat before he began, "'Firefighters were in a scramble early Sunday morning as the Santa Monica brushfire continued its brutal path through the Topanga canyon. The fire had ignited around the time of 2 p.m. three days prior, and gained significant ground due to high winds. Even working around-the-clock, local firefighters putting in double-- and in some cases, triple-- shifts, the disaster was beginning to seem unstoppable. It must have been quite the relief when Tony Stark's Iron Man and Bruce Banner's Hulk arrived on the scene to'--" Bruce tried to keep a straight face-- "'lend a big green hand.'"

The engineer almost spilled his Cheerios mid-pour laughing. "Where do they get these writers?" He righted the box and went for the jug of milk, twisting off the little plastic cap and motioning in a circle with it. "Keep going."

"'Reportedly, Mr. Stark was equipped with a brand-new, never-before-seen suit of armor, specially designed to handle 'hot' situations, showing that even now, the Malibu-resident continues to stay on the cutting-edge of safety technology, as well as the need to 'show off' he's 'hot stuff' in the process.'" Bruce lowered the newspaper a moment to smirk over the top edge, "I think they've got your number, Tony."

The goateed man stuck out his tongue at him as he took a seat at the table and dug in with his spoon.

Bruce took a bite of his toast as his eyes skimmed down the next couple lines, mouth quirking a bit awkwardly; he was almost tempted not to read them aloud. He swallowed and continued nonetheless, "'His friend, Dr. Banner, while completely normal most of the time, is nearly invincible in his transformed state. Possessing unparalleled super-strength, he was capable of extinguishing hectares of out-of-control brushfire with a single 'clap', the sound of which many living towns over said resembled that of a thunderclap.'" He paused, taking the opportunity to readjust his glasses, "…Hectares? That's grossly exaggerated."

"Media," Tony shrugged a single shoulder, accompanying it with a little roll of his eyes, "They tend to have trouble with things like _facts_."

The doctor chuckled at that commentary and resumed. "'In less than three hours, the fire was reduced to a manageable level and prior evacuation warnings were retracted. Damage assessments provided by experts suggest that nearly five-thousand acres and countless homes were saved thanks to the heroics of both men.'" Bruce blinked in surprise at the estimates. "I didn't realize it was that much," he said.

"All in a day's work," the innovator buffed his nails against his silk robe with a sly, smug smile. "And I gotta say: It's nice to have a little less 'doom and gloom' and a little more…" he paused for half a beat, "Me."

The physicist laughed and gave the other man a nod, "You're right about that." He went back to his slice of toast as he read the remainder of the article silently to himself.

'After the fact, we called both heroes into our office to talk a little bit about themselves and what they've been up to recently. Geoffry Porter has the scoop:

**GP:** Dr. Banner, you haven't been seen since the alien attack on New York. Where have you been all these months?

**BB:** I've been … out of the country.

**TS:** [motioning at Dr. Banner] He's big on humanitarianism. He goes wherever aid is needed. He's pretty damn awesome like that.

**GP:** Could you share some of humanitarian efforts you have been involved in?

**BB:** Mostly disease prevention … and control. I'm not providing specifics at this time.

**GP:** It's been said the Hulk is dangerous; do you have a comment on that?

**BB:** [begins to answer, but is interrupted]

**TS:** Look now, there's a big difference between _is_ dangerous and _can_ be dangerous. Sure, he has the raw strength to level a building, but is he gonna? Nah. Bruce has control of him. He's got it. [claps Dr. Banner on the back]'

Bruce hummed. His friend had really come to his rescue on that particular question. He lifted his head to observe the man across the table, who currently had the cereal bowl up covering his face as he slurped out the dregs of the milk in the bottom. Bruce couldn't even recall what he had planned to say to the interviewer in response, but Tony's had been so perfectly frank yet casual that the subject was broached no further. He lowered his eyes to the newspaper once more.

' **GP:** You two made a pretty good team out there; have either of you seen any of the other Avengers since New York?

**TS:** Nah. [wraps his arm around Dr. Banner's shoulders] Bruce and I keep in touch cuz we're buds. I don't… ah… 'play well' with the others. Most of the time. Obviously if the situation calls for it, that changes, but yeah. I might've seen Rogers once, over coffee or something… I dunno.

**BB:** I've spoken to Agent Romanoff a couple times since then, but that's really all. The Avengers Initiative is really a large-scale disaster response unit so… in some ways we're hoping we _won't_ have to see one another again. Tony-- [corrects himself] Mr. Stark is the exception.

**GP:** Mr. Stark, you've been out of the public eye for awhile now, could you shed a little light as to why? And why did you decide to make an appearance this morning in Topanga?

**TS:** [laughs and rubs the back of his neck] Well, um… about that… you see…

**BB:** Mr. Stark has been tirelessly developing new projects to aid in disasters like today's. Currently he is taking some personal recreational time in order to recuperate. Until then his appearances will be limited.

**TS:** Yeah, what he said. Bruce has been kinda being my counselor. Make sure I don't get too carried away. And he's doing a great job.

**GP:** By 'new projects' it can only be assumed you're referring to the unique new take on the original Iron Man armor Mr. Stark was wearing this morning, constructed of fiberglass. Are there more 'in the works'?

**TS:** It's fiberglass and aluminum, actually. And yes. My latest suit--" [is interrupted]

**BB:** Will be discussed at a later date.

**TS:** [laughs] Like I said, Bruce is doing a great job.

Though we missed a potential 'sneak-peak' into the latest and greatest coming from the Stark lab, one thing seemed easy to conclude from yesterday's interview: this is unlikely to be the last time we see the Science Bros together in action.'

The physicist folded the paper back in half. He regarded the other scientist seated at the table. "You know, there's something I've been meaning to ask."

Tony had the concave side of the spoon balanced on the bulb of his nose; his eyes uncrossed to look at Bruce. "Oh yeah? What's that?" Concentration broken, the utensil slipped off and landed on the table with a clatter.

"Your latest suit--" he began.

"You wanna see it?" the engineer exclaimed before he could get it out.

Bruce gave a wry chuckle, lowering his gaze to the table-- he knew he shouldn't encourage the other man's obsession like this, by admitting his interest; but what could a few minutes down in the laboratory hurt? He conceded. "Yeah, if that's alright."

"Oh, Bruce," the engineer put his hand over his heart, batting his eyelashes, "I was beginning to think you'd never ask."

\--

"It's mostly done," Tony jabbered away, weaving around his maze of workspaces, "I've been doing a lot of tweaking on the joints-- they used to be smooth like all the rest of my suits, but I found out that caused a lot of slippage under heavy strain in early test runs." Dr. Banner struggled to follow along, both navigationally through the lab and visually (after all, he hadn't _seen_ what Tony was so enthusiastically going on about yet, nor even a blueprint); he accidentally knocked a wayward clipboard off a desk on his way past. Stooping to pick it up, he hurriedly put it back where it belonged and took three quick steps to catch back up to his friend.

"Anyway, now the joints consist of cogs, so they'll more or less 'ratchet' into place-- a.k.a. no slippage," Tony concluded. "Really what remains now is optimization. The pistons I've got attached to each limb right now are pretty sizable-- four inches in diameter and two feet in length-- but still, the psi necessary to lift seventy tons is _immense_."

"Wait," Bruce clued on suddenly at the supplied information, "You were asking me about this before. About how much the Hulk could lift."

"Buh-ingo, Brucie!" the engineer grinned, coming to a stop in front of a twelve foot tall mass that had had a tarp thrown over it. With a flourish, Tony yanked the tarp off and to the side. "Meet Igor," he grinned, one hand aloft.

The physicist let his head tip back as he took in the huge metallic monster before him. It bore little resemblance to Mr. Stark's other suits of armor beyond slatted eyes in the faceplate and an arc reactor built into its chest (though even that was rectangular in shape); at the moment it was powered down. It was stout in stature, nearly as wide as it was tall, with brutishly thick arms. The attribute the suit was named for however, Bruce was certain, was the distinct 'hunch-back' it had to it. Bruce began to circle around the marvel of engineering, studying it from all angles. As he did, he caught glimpse of the inner left forearm upon which had been spray-painted 'MARK 38'. That more than doubled his former estimate of how many suits Tony had built or been in the process of building… 

"And your point in building this is to out-lift the Hulk?" Bruce inquired with an air of off-handedness as he came back around the front, adjusting his spectacles at his friend.

"Not it's initial purpose," Tony lifted a forefinger as he spoke, "I just wanted a heavy-lifting suit in case I had to pick up any more steel girders for multi-story skyscrapers.” He shrugged a shoulder. "Making it stronger than the Hulk was an after-thought."

The physicist, despite himself, gave an incredulous snort at this boast. "It's not stronger than the Hulk," he stated flatly.

"Reaaally?" Tony held the word as he leaned out over a desk, tapping his cheek with supreme interest, "You interested in putting that to the test?"

"It doesn't need to be tested," Bruce contested matter-of-factly. "It's evident from a purely technical standpoint that it's outmatched. The mechanical components don't compare to that of physical anatomy at this scale." He pointed with the stem of his glasses to the metallic cylinder connecting knee and ankle, "This hydraulic piston would fail long before the Hulk's calves gave out. It wouldn't be able to maintain pressure at a constant level before the air started bleeding out."

"Whoa, when did you become a mechanical engineering super-genius?" Tony's palms popped up in front of him to wave in faux-defense. His mouth drew back into a grossly over-confident smirk. "I think you _know_ Igor could beat the Big Guy in an arm-wrestle so you're _afraid_ to put it to the test."

It was stupid how this was actually getting to him. It was even stupider that he was actually considering indulging the other scientist in showing him just how incorrect he was. Bruce pursed his lips. "Well, we're not testing it here,” he said simply.

"No no no, of course not," Tony waved him off as if to say _‘C’mon, what kind of idiot do you take me for?’_. Though... that was sometimes a partially valid question. "We'd do it somewhere safe, where nothing too valuable could get smashed; I can arrange that, I’ve got my connections.”

Bruce still didn’t much like the sound of it. “I don’t know, Tony. Maybe--”

JARVIS spoke up over the two of them as cordially as he could. “Excuse me, sirs, but Miss Potts is now entering the laboratory. I think she should like to speak with you."

The two men turned their attention away from their bickering and toward the woman now headed their way. She’d donned a crisp white business suit with a curiously asymmetrical lapel closure that suggested its make was designer. Her black strap stiletto heels also made her taller than the either of them.

"What are you two doing down here?" Her voice carried only the most thinly-veiled humor over the accusation-- Bruce was getting better at recognizing it, albeit somewhat slowly. Pepper’s green eyes stopped on the doctor the moment her heels clicked to a stop on the concrete floor. "I hope Tony isn't trying to drag you into any of his pet-projects." A little telltale smirk at the corner of her lips.

Bruce cleared his throat however, feeling a self-conscious blush that he hoped she couldn't see creeping up from the collar of his shirt; he tugged it upward just in case. "No, Miss Potts. Mr. Stark and I were only discussing how he ought to get around to reorganizing the laboratory. De-cluttering a bit." Tony’s mouth opened to protest; Bruce silenced him with a surreptitious stomp on his foot.

The CEO put her hands on her hips. “Well, it sure could use it,” she returned with an emphatic incline of her head.

“Hey now, it’s a little ‘cluttered’, but it’s _my_ workspace,” the innovator said, coming around the workbench only to trip on some scrap metal looming by his feet. His mouth twisted grumpily, but he didn’t let it stop him from delivering his point, “I can keep it how I like. Mom didn’t nag me _once_ to clean my room after the age of nine.”

Pepper echoed Bruce’s own inner thoughts. “It shows.”

The man gave a snort. “Question of my organizational skills aside, I think the better question is what _you're_ doing down here," Tony shot back at his girlfriend. Bruce internally cringed. Bad move, Tony.

The redhead gaped at her boyfriend with mild affront. "For your information, I came down to say goodbye."

Tony cocked his head to the side, attitude turning a 180° in a single instant. "Wait, you're going somewhere? I didn't know you were going anywhere." He paused only for a quick breath, "Where are you going again?"

"I told you yesterday," the CEO responded, ponytail bobbing back and forth as she shook her head with frustrated disbelief, but she answered anyhow, "I have business to attend to in New York."

The man looked extremely sheepish. "Sorry. Guess I must not have heard you…"

"Or any of the times before that apparently," she retorted, "because I distinctly recall telling you on four separate occasions over the past week."

Tony winced like he'd only just now realized how 'in the doghouse' he'd gotten himself. "How long are you gonna be gone for?" he asked.

"Until Friday. I'll be back late afternoon."

“That long??”

“Yes, that long. I’ve got several proposals to listen to.”

“Proposals...” Tony chuckled under his breath at some private joke neither of the other two in the room understood. He shook his head. “Do you _really_ have to go? There’s no way you could reschedule or... or... anything??” he pleaded with her. Bruce stayed silent on the sidelines; he didn’t know if Tony was just being clingy or if he had some legitimate reason to be upset by her departure.

"Yes, I _really_ have to go," Pepper mocked back in response. "There's actually an entire _company_ with your name attached to it? One that's supposed to be developing alternative energy solutions? But for some _strange_ reason, there haven't been a lot of advances to speak of in the past _eight months_. Due, possibly-- and I'm only speculating here-- to the fact that someone, who _again_ , has his name _attached_ to the company, has decided his time is better spent on the Mark two-hundred and eighty-six." She threw her arm out at Igor exasperatedly.

A crestfallen look descended upon the billionaire; he shrunk, hugging his own arms. “I’m sorry, Pep. I... I’ve been _trying_ to think of new stuff for the Industry, really I have... but you gotta understand, there’s more important things--” At the words, her eyes hardened upon him; his watered, moisture collecting on the bottom lids. The engineer looked to be on the verge of another mental breakdown, when he straightened up where he stood and shut his eyes. At first it wasn’t clear what he was doing, but then Bruce recognized it-- Tony was using the meditative breathing pattern he’d taught him. The doctor felt a brief sense of pride that Tony had thought of it and was using it.

Three breaths later, Tony opened his eyes again; he was significantly calmer. Not perfectly so, but he had his head back. He crossed over to Pepper to stand at an intimate distance. “Sorry, don’t listen to me. I’m talking crazy-talk.”

The woman looked genuinely surprised. She reached out to put her hand on his arm, stroking it with her thumb. “Tony...”

He interrupted, voice somewhat lowered. “You stay safe, okay? You’re taking the private jet right?” Her mouth closed and she nodded. “And Happy’s going with you?” To which she nodded again. “Great,” Tony smiled. “Call me when you land, okay?”

“Of course. I always do,” Pepper responded softly.

The engineer pecked her on the cheek. “Love ya, babe. Catch you Friday.” She turned from him and both men watched her go. As soon as the glass door slid shut behind her, Tony moved to pick up several tools from a nearby desk. He cradled them in his arms as he walked over to his rolling tool chest, beginning to sort each one into the proper drawer. Bruce couldn’t help but ask. “What are you doing?”

“Tidying up,” Tony said with straight-forward matter-of-factness. “You and Pep agreed the place needed it.” He finished and moved onto another workspace. “U, could you start organizing all my scrap into one place?” he spoke to one of his robots across the lab; it squibbled in reply and bent to start picking up. The second of Tony’s robotic-arm-on-wheels whined as if offended its brother had been given a task while it had not. The engineer hmm’d. “DUM-E, grab a broom and dustpan.” A much happier noise trilled from the bot, as it wheeled off to do so. “Hey JARVIS, gimme some Black Sabbath to pass the time, will ya?” Tony requested from his AI overhead. Within moments, heavy metal filled the laboratory, and the innovator jammed along to it as he reorganized a cubby of transistors.

“Anything I can do to help?” Bruce offered.

“Nah, I got it. Besides, it’s my mess.” Tony waved him off, back still towards him, “Go on and read a book or something. I’ll be up in an hour or so and we can get back on our rehab schedule.”

Dr. Banner leaned back on a hip, stroking his scruffy chin thoughtfully. There might be a responsible man in his friend yet.


	12. Chapter 12

_The rain is pelting down on him hard enough he can feel the individual droplets through his cotton sweatshirt. He wishes he had his baseball cap to at least give his face some cover... cold rivulets are running out of his hair to drip off his nose and chin. His worn shoes squeltch with every step; he’s not bothering to avoid the deep puddles. Ultimately he’s going to be soaked to the bone before he can find a suitable place to ‘vanish’._

_Should have never gone to Stanley for help._

_That’s what he thinks as he begins across the suspension bridge. He tries to pick up the pace somewhat; he needs to put as much distance as he can between himself and... and her. She’s better off without him._

_And yet the look in her steel-blue eyes when they locked gazes across the parlor... like she’d seen a ghost of her past._

_He would’ve liked to have been invisible in that moment. So he wouldn’t have had to seen the hurt he’d put her through flashing across her startled, pale face._

_Cars go tearing by in both directions, whipping him with hard buffets of air. The glare of the passing headlights leaves streaks of discoloration in his retinas; he blinks his eyes to will them away faster and presses on._

_He becomes aware of the sedan coasting along slowly behind him by the elongated shadow of his form cast on the street by the headlamps, and the sound of the engine and wipers beating steadily across the windshield. He slows his gait, but doesn’t halt just yet, the conflicting emotions in his heart near to inducing tremors._

_He knows it’s her; she found him even in the pouring rain on the city streets._

_He turns around as she exits the car; Betty stares at him from afar as if waiting to see if he’ll attempt to bolt again. But when he stays put, she runs towards him, throwing her arms around his neck to hug him tight._

_“Don’t go. Don’t go...” Betty pleads, running her hands through his sopping hair... across his slick face, over and over and over. Being face-to-face with her again springs tears to his eyes, but they are unseen for the downpour around them. He never wanted to go in the first place. But she doesn’t know what it’s like with the monster inside of him. “I want you to come with me now. Please, come with me.” Her voice is barely a whisper, “Please...”_

A tear built on his lower lid until it was heavy enough to roll down his cheek, startling both his eyes open. Blinking with surprise, Bruce lifted his hand quickly to rub the moisture away with his thumb. He chuckled self-consciously at the engineer peering at him queerly with his head cocked to the side. “I have no idea where that came from...” Bruce lied. He didn’t fully expect Tony to believe it, but figured the other man would be respectful of his privacy and not pry.

Tony shrugged. “Happens to the best of us, big guy.” He gave him a chummy slap on the arm and stood from the bamboo mat.

Bruce lowered his gaze to the floor, contemplating the memory that had forced its way into his meditation unwanted. Yet he could pin-point why it had chosen today. Should he find it odd that Tony’s reaction to Pepper’s departure had reminded him of that moment with Betty on the bridge? _‘Do you really have to go?’_ That’s what he had asked her, begging her to stay. And then they’d closed the gap, held one another close...

_‘Don’t go. Don’t go...’_ Betty’s words echoed in his ears.

Shaking his thoughts loose, Bruce stood as well, collecting the mat and taking it to the closet. Tony stretched both arms over his head, eliciting a pop of vertebrae. “Ngh, oh yeah... that’s tons better,” he commented, now reaching to scratch an itch that had likely been bugging him the entire meditation period, judging from the aggressive way he was raking his fingernails over his side. “Y’know, doc, I really think this stuff’s doing me some serious good.”

Bruce smiled at the blank closet wall in front of him a moment before slipping his button-up over his shoulders. “I noticed you made quick use of it down in the basement.”

“Heh, yeah,” Tony admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Bruce emerged from the closet re-dressed and they left the guest room. Now that their scheduled activities were complete, the two of them were ‘at leisure’.

"You know what?” Tony said in a tone that said he’d made a decision right on the spot, “I feel like celebrating."

Dr. Banner hummed thoughtfully before inquiring, “What's the occasion?"

The innovator gave a short snort, regarding him with a snarkily cocked eyebrow. “Do you ever actually _need_ an excuse to celebrate? Tell me. Honestly. Do you?"

"I'm fairly certain that definitionally, yes, you _do_ ,” Bruce responded with amusement.

"Bah," Tony made a dismissive wave through the air in front of him. He thought for a moment and then seemed to settle on a suitable reason. "Okay, fine. I wanna celebrate cuz of how much better I've been feeling lately,” he spoke. “Cuz of how much better _you've_ been making me feel.” He poked a finger to his chest upon the ‘you’.

The doctor looked down at the floor with a soft chuckle, allowing that sentiment to sink in. “I guess I could hardly decline on that basis,” Bruce surmised, admittedly a little wary of what ‘celebrating’ might entail when it came to Tony Stark and what he was being dragged into. Still and all, he was glad to hear the other man casting his worries aside for an evening of levity.

“Perfect,” the billionaire grinned with excitement, both hands poised fingers spread in front of him. They turned to pointers, forefingers extended when an idea hit him. “You mind if I invite someone else along?”

“That’s fine,” the physicist shrugged. He wasn’t exactly the life of any party-- if there was going to be much ruckus at all, it was going to have to come from another source. He couldn’t blame Tony for wanting to liven up whatever celebration he had in mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it low-key,” Tony winked at his friend and Bruce found himself chuckling that he was being looked out for. “JARVIS,” the man motioned down a viewscreen, “patch me through to Rhodey, would’ya?”

“Post-haste, sir.” A screen dropped down from the ceiling and the contact blipped onto the screen, ringing the number. Bruce unfolded the stems on his glasses and placed them on his nose to facilitate his curiosity as to who it was Tony was inviting along. ‘Colonel James R. Rhodes’ was the man’s official title; he’d been serving for several years to attain the rank. The doctor’s lips pursed uncomfortably. Though S.H.I.E.L.D. had worked hard to wipe clean his record, he still retained an instinctual hesitancy for coming in contact with members of the armed forces. He’d just spent too much time fleeing... being pursued...

Tony must have caught his waver out of the corner of his eye. “Air Force, not the Army. You’re good,” he reassured, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him. The call picked up and Colonel Rhodes appeared on screen in front of him. Bruce took a couple steps back to be sure he was out of view. “Rhodeyyy!” Tony stuck out both arms animatedly in greeting. “My man!”

“It’s about damn time you called, Tony,” the Colonel’s expression was mildly irritated but good-natured. “I was about ready to send a platoon over to the mansion and break down the doors to check up on you.”

“Thanks for the concern, _Mom_ ,” Tony stuck out his tongue, “but I’m doing just fine, as you can see.”

Rhodey took the time to look him over top to bottom, eyes scanning up and down whatever device he was in connection with. “You are looking better,” he observed with a guarded nod, as if he’d leave the full determination for in-person. “So what’s up?”

Tony rubbed his forefinger under his nose a moment and responded, “Thought I’d cash in my raincheck and we could hit up the bar.”

“Which one?” Rhodes replied sassily, “If I recall correctly, you’ve got about six that I gave you.”

The innovator cleared his throat loudly. “The number doesn’t matter,” he insisted quickly, avoiding Bruce’s prying gaze as to how many outings he’d declined in recent months. “Besides,” he went on, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

The Colonel looked curious, but also wary of another incoming joke made at his expense. “Oh yeah, who’s that?” the military man questioned, taking his chances.

Tony snorted. “Guess I know someone who doesn’t read the paper,” he mumbled quickly. “Only the guy responsible for getting me back up on my feet. So you’ll be there, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Rhodey confirmed. “But it’s Monday night. Unlike you, I’m responsible for coordinating a training exercise at O-six hundred hours.”

“Sure thing, Junior Mint. We won’t stay up past your bedtime; I can even tuck you in if you need me to.” The engineer’s teasing grin was positively enormous.

“Funny,” Rhodey commented, without laughing. “See you in a little while, Tony.”

“Later,” the innovator confirmed, the screen going dark as he moved over to his liquor cabinet. Dr. Banner hummed to himself upon conclusion of the conversation. He could tell just looking in from the outside that Colonel Rhodes and Tony had been friends for a long time... the sniping they had done at one another was a solid tip-off. More than likely, they had met years ago back when Stark Industries had been in the weapons manufacturing business, when all branches of the military would’ve been purchasing designs and tech. It was good to know that Tony had another close friend besides himself-- close, both emotionally and _geographically_ \-- though it seemed perhaps Rhodey hadn’t been able to quite bust through Tony’s emotional walls the way Bruce had. The physicist was startled out of his musings when Tony spun around on his heel, presenting him with a shot glass filled with whiskey.

“Not saving it for the bar?” Bruce asked, lifting an eyebrow. He carefully positioned his forefinger and thumb on the edges of the glass his friend wasn’t holding to accept it from him. It had been awhile since he’d partaken in anything alcoholic. Mostly it was just best for him to stay mentally acute at all times. But a little ‘loosening up’ wouldn’t hurt.

“It’s called ‘pre-gaming’, Bruce, it’s important,” Tony explained tritely. He gulped down his own shot and shook his head before smacking his lips twice. “Whew, is that ever the good stuff.” He grabbed the bottle back up to pour a second.

Dr. Banner cleared his throat. He cautiously placed the shot glass to his lips and threw the dark brown liquid back.

\--

The bar where they were meeting at turned out to be a sports bar in Santa Monica, decked out with countless flatscreen TVs to cover every potential viewing angle in the bar. They were tuned to broadcasts of football, baseball, soccer... loud cheers erupted each time a touchdown, home run, or goal was made, depending on what game the clientele were following. Any piece of wall not covered by a television seemed to be occupied by a neon advertising sign or Hollywood memorabilia instead. And there was a pervasive odor of hot wings wafting throughout the establishment that Bruce had never smelled the likes of before. It didn’t really seem like Tony’s kind of bar-- which he envisioned would involve a dance floor, rave lighting, and a _lot_ more girls-- so the physicist could only conclude it was an atmosphere Colonel Rhodes preferred and Tony just played along.

The military man arrived shortly after he and Tony had located a table. He’d dressed down, in a striped polo and khakis, rather than in uniform, and immediately his focus was on the doctor. “You must be who Tony wanted me to meet,” Rhodey extended his hand for a handshake, which Bruce stood to take, “I’m James Rhodes.”

“Bruce Banner,” the physicist returned warmly, omitting his title in the casual setting.

“Bruce Banner...” Rhodey repeated, grip still firm on his hand, “ _Dr._ Bruce Banner.” Bruce felt himself tense in alarm. “As in, _the Hulk_.” Now Rhodes eyes were wide and he was eyeballing Tony. “No wonder you ain’t been hangin’ with me when you’ve got this cool dude to hang out with instead.”

The tension Bruce had been feeling drained out of him at the joke. “I’ve actually only been here for six days,” he informed the Colonel as if to make him feel better, a subtle smile playing at his lips.

“Yeah, that’s six days and we still haven’t gotten any ‘playtime’,” Tony commented, motioning with his hands, “So Rhodey, I was wondering if we could borrow the airfield tomorrow morning.” A blonde waitress in an overly-tight white t-shirt with the name tag ‘Trish’ came by and he addressed her, ordering for the table, “Hey, yeah, three Flat Tires, extra frosty and a basket of fries, seasoned but easy on the salt, okay, sweetie?” She nodded and turned to go.

“Borrow it?” Rhodes eyebrows drew together. “Borrow it for what?”

Tony returned to the conversation. “Hm? Just some tests. Nothing big,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“ _Tony_...” Rhodey drew out reprimandingly like he knew he wasn’t getting the whole story.

Bruce filled in the missing details. “Tony’s been developing a suit designed for the purpose of heavy-lifting, the Mark 38. As of now, it’s is in its final stages of completion. Testing is all that remains. Tony wanted--“ his lips pursed momentarily, it was awkward to state this so trivially-- “to see how it compared to what the Hulk can do.”

“Yeah, which means we need heavy stuff to lift,” the engineer put forward, a ‘no duh’ implicit. A beer appeared in front of him first and he grinned a “Thanks, sweetheart,” as the waitress smiled and set the remaining two bottles in front of the other two men at the table.

“Tony, you realize that everything on that airfield costs multi-millions in government funds,” the Colonel stressed.

“Yeah, so?” the innovator popped the cap on his beer nonchalantly. “Billionaire here, in case you forgot; I think I’m good for the damages. Plus,” he pointed the neck of the bottle at him, “you know you owe me for that upgrade.” With that comeback, he took a large swig.

Rhodes sighed, the kind of sigh that said he’d already given in before even expressing it verbally. “Just don’t break anything, alright?”

“Cross my heart,” Tony grinned, drawing an X over his arc reactor. Though Bruce noticed his friend didn’t finish that idiom.

The three of them shared several drinks over the course of the next hour and a half, chatting and getting better acquainted. Dr. Banner hadn’t known upon first introduction that Rhodes was, in fact, War Machine, soon to be re-branded as the Iron Patriot. Though the Iron Man suit concept was still Stark intellectual property, the Air Force had been licensed to create one model for their arsenal, worn solely by the Colonel. As a result, Tony and Rhodey had many stories of heroism to swap, each telling one-upping the last, and the evening grew steadily later.

_‘You’re the only girl I’ve been dreamin’ of! You’re the only woman I ever loved...!’_

Tony bolted upright in his seat, slamming his beer bottle down and digging into his jeans pocket to get at his cell phone currently blasting a hard rock tune. “That’ll be Pep. Be right back,” he said; he dashed from the table, accepting the call and putting the phone to his ear right as the line _‘My heart belongs to you...!’_ finished chiming out.

Bruce smiled openly at the interruption, taking note of what ringtone Tony had chosen for Miss Potts’ caller ID and the eagerness the innovator had displayed upon her call. “No rush!” he called after his friend, who turned to give him a thumbs-up before exiting the establishment. Hopefully they’d have a long, pleasant exchange with one another. He checked his wristwatch. It had to be fairly late on the other side of the country where Pepper was.

Without Tony as the common denominator between them, he and Rhodey didn’t have quite as much to immediately talk about, but the Colonel broke the ice. “I haven’t seen Tony this lively in months.” He drank from his current bottle of beer, setting it down contemplatively and letting the liquid mellow on his tongue before swallowing. “Hell, just a week ago, he was still a shut-in, wouldn’t leave that lab of his for anything. Which, don’t get me wrong, seemed normal the first few weeks, but...” The man shook his head, then looked at the doctor once again. “Just thank you, alright? Dunno what’chu all did, but it’s good to have my friend back.”

Dr. Banner smiled because it seemed the proper expression when receiving gratitude. He was wordless a moment, studying the label peeling off the condensate-covered glass surface as he turned the bottle around in his hands. Now was his chance to confide something he’d been keeping to himself to someone not directly related to the situation (namely his friend or his friend’s girlfriend), and he wasn’t likely to get the chance again any time soon. “I’m just as pleased as you are that Tony’s been making such a swift recovery,” he thought aloud. “Once I’m sure he won’t relapse, I’ll be able to take my leave.”

Rhodes paused a long while. “Where you from anyway?” he eventually queried.

“Ah...” Bruce gave a heavy chuckle, deciding how to answer that, “Originally, Virginia. More recently, India.” There wasn’t much point to enumerating the rest. He took a long drink.

Rhodey seemed to sense a determination in that, or at least, he didn’t ask any further questions. After awhile he commented, “He’s really gonna miss you, when you go.”

Yeah. Bruce stared at his mostly-empty bottle. Yeah, he knew Tony would. Though he was a little surprised to hear the Colonel voicing such. “What makes you say that?” Bruce asked with a would-be off-handedness.

Rhodey leveled his gaze across the room, chewing a french fry as he thought about his answer. “One thing about Tony, he doesn’t let too many people in close to him. He socializes and all-- God, there used to be a time when he almost didn’t do anything but; I was always havin’ to hold his hand so he wouldn’t go runnin’ into the street,” he chose the metaphor with a quirk of the lips. “But none of those people were ever close to him, you know what I mean?”

Dr. Banner nodded. It was the same Tony Pepper had been describing to him, the one before he’d found a purpose and ‘become’ Iron Man. It was interesting, for how “important” he was to Tony, he sure had made a much later appearance in his life than either Rhodey or Pepper. Bruce wondered, ever so subtly, what he would have thought of the man back then all those years ago, if he would have even had anything to do with him. Or if they would have been like two ships passing in the night.

“I suppose...” Rhodey went on, “Well, you and he are obviously pretty tight, but there’s more to it than just that. It kinda seems to me like you’ve both got this... I guess I’d describe it as this _weight_ hangin’ over you. Like you’re trying to hold the whole world on your shoulders.”

Bruce let his gaze drop to the tabletop. That was... accurate. He wasn’t used to being the one being diagnosed, so all he could do was click his tongue against the roof of his mouth and give a soft, “Yeah.”

The Colonel touched his fingers to his chest. “Me, I’m simple. I take orders, and I give orders. But you and Tony... you’re both complex,” he moved his hands around one another in a circle, “you got this ‘hero, anti-hero’ thing goin’ on, and I don’t even know what else. Seems to me that two people like that are gonna be drawn together,” he interlocked his fingers tightly, then pulled to show they wouldn’t come apart, “and they ain’t gonna want to separate.”

Before he could think too deeply about that statement, he heard Tony shout a greeting across the establishment, announcing his return. The man looked to be in high spirits. He weaved his way through the tables, plopping down in his seat with a grin. “Hey, hope I didn’t leave you two waiting.”

“Actually, Tony, I should probably be heading out,” Rhodey observed the time. The bar had been gradually emptying out around them as people called it quits for the workday ahead.

“Seriously?? Ugh, _fiiine_ ,” the innovator rolled his eyes so hard it made his entire head roll on his shoulders, “Bruce and I’ll just go on without you. Trish!” he called out and the blonde waitress noticed him; he held two fingers aloft and she made for the bar proper to fetch two more beers.

Rhodey just chuckled, patting the tabletop twice. “You two have fun. I’ll catch you some other time.”

Dr. Banner stood and extended his hand once again for a parting handshake. “It was good talking with you. I hope we’ll have the pleasure again in the future.”

“Yeah, me too,” Rhodes shook firmly before letting go. He looked back to Tony. “I’ll warn the troops you’re coming.”

The engineer merely gave a lazy salute and the Colonel turned to go.

“Cool guy, right?” Tony said as Bruce sat down.

“Yeah,” he agreed, recalling Rhodes words about ‘being close’ and acknowledging his friend had a penchant for understatement. He switched topics, “So how is Miss Potts?”

“Pep? She’s good,” the engineer confirmed, draining the bottle he’d left behind for said phone call. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he did the re-cap. “She would’a called me sooner but I guess the traffic from the airport to the Tower was awful, even with Hogan’s driving she almost missed the first business meeting, which apparently went over, and then there were a bunch of urgent emails she had to get to before tomorrow morning rolled around-- honestly, I don’t know how she does it. Especially now that the company’s grown. But yeah, she’s good,” he re-answered the question. He reached for one of the cold ones that had appeared while he was talking.

Bruce nodded but remained quiet, sensing the inventor likely had more to share, and sure enough, it wasn’t long before Tony filled the silence again. “She asked me how I was doin’ too. I told her I was hangin’ with you guys and...” he plugged up an embarrassed chuckle with the mouth of his beer bottle, “trying not to think about how much I miss her.”

Dr. Banner felt himself smile painfully at that sentiment. That was something he’d nearly perfected. His grip tightened around the slick neck of his bottle. _‘Don’t go. Don’t go...’_ her pleas hung in his memory. He cupped his palm over his mouth and tried to stifle the noise that came out as his eyes misted over.

“Bruce? Bruce, buddy, whoa, hey, what’s wrong?” His friend immediately put his arm around him, rubbing his back as Bruce bowed over the table.

“I... She... She didn’t want me to go...” he breathed out, chest heaving.

“Shit,” the billionaire muttered, “We’re gonna need somethin’ stiffer. Trish!” he called out, “Get us a couple of shot glasses and a bottle of Jack.” He immediately returned to consoling his friend. “Hey, hey... who didn’t want you to go?”

Bruce bit his lip. “Betty. Betty Ross. We... we were co-workers...”

“Uh huh. Fair amount more than that, I bet,” Tony wagered, thanking the waitress when she brought the requested order. He quickly poured the whiskey into one of the glasses and smacked it down in front of the doctor. “For every detail you try and leave out, I’m gonna make you drink, so you better spill it.”

The physicist felt himself laugh weakly through his dolefulness. He picked up the glass and threw back the shot. “We were dating,” he corrected. “We were both developing the serum at the time. It was supposed to protect the subject that had been injected from gamma-radiation, so as to grant the subject immunity. We thought if we eliminated the biological hazards, we could study gamma-radiation up close, without all the safety precautions that were holding us back--” his voice hiccuped and he motioned for Tony to pour another.

The engineer complied and Bruce threw it back. “Jesus Christ,” he gaped. “I heard it was all just an accident...”

Bruce’s mouth curled into bitter remorse. “It was arrogance. Over-exuberance, over-confidence. I went first. Injected the serum, exposed myself to the radiation.” Thank God he gone first, for her sake. “And now...” his right hand fisted, knuckles tinging green, and he slammed it down on the table, “Now I’m _this!_ ”

Tony drew his hands back, but only for the brief moment it took for the table to stabilize on its four feet. “Bruce,” he said firmly, taking hold of both his shoulders, “Bruce, you said it yourself: he’s doing _good_ now. This thing... it’s not a curse, okay? It’s... it’s a terrible privilege. I’ve told you that. You remember I told you that.”

The doctor took a deep breath and nodded, collected. “Yeah.” He grabbed the square bottle and poured himself a third shot. “But I still had to run,” he commented lowly. “I didn’t have control back then. More people would’ve just gotten hurt.”

Tony couldn’t find anything to contest that. He silently downed a shot of his own. “And now that you do have control,” he led in, “have you gone and seen her?”

Bruce stared into his glass, at the concentric ripples on the surface of the liquid. “No.”


	13. Chapter 13

_“This is far enough.”_

_The truck rumbles to an achingly gradual stop on the alpine road, the air brakes letting out a labored sigh. On the dashboard, the hula girl is still shimmying her hips while the air freshener pendulums back and forth. The man behind the wheel frowns uncertainly at the blizzardy landscape outside the truck’s cab, likely questioning whether this is entirely ethical... to leave a man out in the snow, even if it’s what the man wants. “It’s below zero out there,” the truck driver gives him one last chance to change his mind._

_“I’m prepared,” Bruce answers, gathering his things from where he stored them behind his seat. He extends a mittened hand, which the truck driver takes firmly and shakes. It’s odd the kind of simple brotherhood that can come about from traveling a few hundred miles with another person in solitude. “Thanks again.”_

_“Sure hope you know what yer doin’,” the Canadian man responds, but no more is said between them as Bruce opens the door and steps out, ice and snow crunching beneath the tread of his boots as he exits the cab. As soon as he gets the door shut, the diesel engine gives a roar, pluming black smoke out of the dual exhaust pipes into the frigid air and the vehicle gradually accelerates, rattling away down the road until its out of sight._

_He_ does _know what he’s doing. He’s thought about this a long time._

_It’s as far north as he’s going to manage to get hitch-hiking and traveling on dirt roads, but he’s got a little further to go yet. He’s not willing to risk anything. Not when the Hulk is involved. He lowers the goggles over his eyes, pulls out his compass and starts north through the thick of the trees._

_It’s several hours of trekking later before he finds the place he’s going to do it. It’s open, frigid wasteland as far as the eye can see. No one is ever likely to come this way again. His body won’t be found. The serum will be safe._

_He digs into his pack for the revolver he brought, pulling the mitten on his right hand off with his teeth. The cold is biting on his skin; he feels the sleek grip of the weapon and weighs it in his hand before pushing out the cylinder to load a single .38 caliber bullet into the top-most chamber._

_There’s the thought of only one person in his head as he lifts the gun and puts his mouth over the muzzle... only one single last inhibition, one uncertainty as to if he should do this. His thumb, numb from the cold, pulls back the hammer as his forefinger slowly tightens on the trigger._

_He hopes she can forgive him._

_The sound of the gunshot is faint in comparison to his scream as his body rends ruthlessly into the Hulk._

Consciousness ripped a haggard groan from Bruce’s throat as he rolled over languidly in the bed of his guest room. At least, he was now _hoping_ that was what bed he was in. He was sweat-soaked and shivering slightly, still battling the too-real feel of the arctic chill from his nightmarish recollection. His throat was bone-dry, to the point of physical pain, centralized at the roof of his mouth, no doubt due to the dehydration he was suffering, but he couldn’t help but be reminded of the deep bruising that bullet had left after the Hulk had got done spitting it back out. Not your run-of-the-mill suicide attempt you heard at a rehabilitation session.

Fighting the excruciating pain in his head, he picked his face up from the pillow he had pressed it into and opened his eyes. He immediately regretted the decision however, when the bright light shining in through the paned glass shot greater pain through his skull. He yanked the sheets over his head.

“Salutations to you, sir,” JARVIS greeted cheerfully. “Should I presume you would like me to shut the blinds?”

“No. No, it’s fine,” the physicist managed to get out, shielding squinted eyes as he cautiously lowered the covers and sat up. Beyond the severe light sensitivity he was experiencing, he was slightly nauseous. Damn, Banner, how wasted did you let Tony get you last night?? he thought sourly. He honestly couldn’t remember having a hangover _this_ bad since he’d passed his doctoral dissertation. Bruce made a move to crawl out of bed when he found the aforementioned innovator lying literally right beside him, sprawled out on his belly, sawing logs.

Bruce gave a moment’s pause. He didn’t know what cause Tony had had for crashing in the guest room with him rather than his own bed, but he could wait to ask. The both of them were still wearing their clothes from last night, rumpled and stuck to their bodies, and the sheets had been snarled into a mess that suggested there had been significant wrestling over them during the night and that for the most part, he’d lost. He couldn’t imagine that Tony had driven them back from the bar; more likely they’d had to get a taxicab. The fact that he couldn’t remember was itself telling.

He stood to shuffle into the bathroom, pouring himself a glass of water from the tap, staring at his reflection as it filled. His toes flinched against the cool tile floor. The Hulk had torn through everything, from his parka to his boots, in that particular transformation, leaving him with nothing to face the elements save his thick green skin. Not that it seemed to have slowed him down any. His feet should’ve been frostbitten in the time it took to get down to the lower reaches of Canada where Bruce had re-awoken, naked and shivering. He pushed the ridge of the glass to his lips and drained it in one go to wash down the bitter remnants of alcohol and the perceived taste of lead.

The Hulk might be doing good now, but it didn’t do anything to purge the hatred he had for himself that frigid morning in Montreal. Growling, he slammed the glass back down on the countertop.

From behind him, he heard Tony rise with sluggish affect in response to the sound. “Jesus Christ, it feels like my skull is gonna split in half. Fuck. JARVIS, get the blinds.”

“Of course, sir,” the AI responded, not seeming to take the slightest affront to the command being so quickly reversed. The room fell into semi-darkness as the glass panels slatted.

“Brucie?” the inventor called a moment later from the bed, holding his head. “Big guy, where’d you go?”

The physicist hunched over the sink with a sudden wave of nausea, stomach gargling. He tore his gaze from the drain in the sink and answered shakily, “I-I’m here.”

Tony appeared a matter of seconds later, putting a hand on his back. “Hey, you okay?” he asked with concern, only to chastise himself immediately afterward, “Stupid question. Don’t bother answering that. You feel sick?” he guessed, taking stock of the situation.

Bruce just nodded, not trusting himself not to puke if he spoke a second time.

“Got’cha. I’m gonna get a pot of coffee going,” the billionaire declared, slapping him twice on the arm in quick succession, already on the move. “Don’t worry; I’ll have you right as rain in no time!” he called as he left the suite. “If there was ever a field in Hangover Management, I’d have an honorary degree in a plaque on the wall above the liquor cabinet!”

Despite the turmoil in his stomach, Bruce couldn’t help but give a weak chuckle.

\--

“Feelin’ any better yet?”

Bruce lifted his gaze up from the coffee mug as he swallowed the last sip of the hot liquid. Tony was looking at him across the kitchen island-- at least, he presumed he was, because he’d just addressed him and his face was pointed right at him, but the engineer had donned a pair of wrap-around shades to blot out some of the light and consequently, he couldn’t see his eyes. Tony’s eyebrows rose expectantly. “Yeah, I am,” Dr. Banner replied. The caffeine had eliminated his headache at least, and the toast Tony had managed not to burn on the second go was bringing his blood sugar levels back up. He took another bite.

Tony nodded, seeming lost in thought. “Hey, I got a question,” he pronounced.

The physicist hummed. “What’s that?”

“What’s a hungover Hulk like?”

Bruce snorted; he didn’t know why he’d expected a serious question. “It’s an impossibility,” he answered, dusting the crumbs off his fingertips and reaching for the handle of the mug again, “His metabolism is too fast to have any of the side-effects.”

“Well that’s boring,” Tony commented, taking a swig of his bottled water. “Still bet he’d piss like a racehorse...” he muttered out the side of his mouth.

Dr. Banner just shook his head as he put the plate in the sink and went to pour another cup of coffee from the carafe. Once he had, he sat back down on the barstool. “My turn.”

The billionaire’s eyebrow tweaked. “Hm?”

“Why’d you crash in the guest room?” Bruce asked.

Tony jittered ever so slightly, reaching up to pull the sunglasses off his face and collapse the stems. “You’re not mad, right?” he almost seemed legitimately concerned.

“No,” Bruce replied frankly. “Just curious.”

The innovator gnawed the end of one of the glasses’ stems in his mouth. “Solidarity, I guess,” he answered with a shrug so trite it almost came off as more of a flinch, “I mean, if you’re gonna get drunk and pass out, you may as well do it in good company, right?”

The doctor swept his tongue about the inside of his mouth. “Uh huh,” he answered, taking another drink.

Tony obviously cottoned on that he wasn’t really buying that fully. “I don’t like sleeping alone anymore,” he admitted with a huge roll of his eyes, not directed at Bruce, but at himself. “ _When_ I sleep. _If_ I sleep,” he double-corrected, acknowledging his insomnia with a snort. “It’s good to know I’m not alone-- that someone’s there, you know? That I can reach out and touch them. Even in the middle of the night.”

It was readily congealing. Bruce gave his friend a pointed look. “Is this part of why you were so upset about Pepper going out of town this week?”

Tony folded his arms. “Y’know, for it ‘not being a part of your training’, you’re creepy good at that.”

Dr. Banner coughed to conceal a soft laugh, looking away.

The inventor tapped his fingers out on the counter. “Yeah, that’s a big part of it,” he shared. “I mean, I’m also absolutely _terrified_ what could happen to her without me there. I try to tell myself I’m just being paranoid--” he cut himself off; his eyes were beginning to water, and he sniffed several times in quick succession. “You know, I had _no_ idea where she was when that nuke was comin’ in.”

The doctor’s lips pushed together tightly and he gave a nod. He could empathize with the stress Tony was going through regarding loved ones. That was one thing he’d ensured by staying away from Betty-- her safety.

“Faintly I think I knew she was coming back sometime that day... I couldn’t remember morning or evening...” Tony weighed his hands out in front of him, “you know me and schedules and I just--” He choked up and looked down at the floor. “What if she’d been there?”

Bruce hummed sympathetically, but he knew as well as Tony likely did that she would have been fine, thanks to his success in redirecting the nuclear missile into space.

The innovator managed to collect himself a bit. “At least after that she finally agreed to move in, which was like _big_. God. I can’t even begin to say how happy that made me.” He wiped at his eyes one by one, a little smile creeping onto his features, but he grew somber once again as he caught eyes with him. “She’s everything to me, doc. She’s the one thing I can’t live without.”

Bruce stood to go over and put a hand on the other man’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “She’d say the same thing about you.”

Tony gave a laugh, beaming as he nodded. “Maybe. Or she might say I was more trouble than I was worth,” he joked.

His friend’s levity made the doctor smile. “Should we be heading out to the airfield?” Bruce followed up.

“Oh shit, that’s right. How could I forget?” Tony smacked his palm to his forehead. “Ow,” he added afterward. “Yeah, I got Igor all packed up; let’s get a move on!”

\--

Upon cleaning up, they drove out to the airfield in another of Tony’s many Acuras. Tony even kept his speed below sixty so the moving truck containing the Mark-38 had a chance of keeping up. Clearance was readily given upon driving up to the security booth, no show of I.D. necessary-- everyone seemed to know who Mr. Stark was, not that that surprised Bruce-- and the security guard directed them where they were authorized to proceed on the airbase.

After they passed through a couple of gates, they came to their destination: Hangar 16. Tony slowed the vehicle to a halt, put it in park, and killed the ignition; the truck behind them did the same. The two of them stayed seated for a minute, just looking around at the many massive machines at their disposal stored within the hangar bay. “Just what I like,” the billionaire grinned, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, “lots of playthings.”

“Mm, yeah,” Bruce acknowledged with a nod of his chin.

“Hey, you’re not worrying about this, are you?” the engineer asked, turning in his seat to look at him. “Because--”

“No, it’s not that,” Bruce cut in before the other scientist could launch into a volley of ‘why’s and ‘why not’s. “I know he’ll behave around you,” he said quietly, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Tony smirked briefly. “You say that like I’m his baby-sitter.”

“Not the worst analogy I’ve heard,” Bruce chuckled, freeing his arms from the button-up; he tossed the garment onto the dashboard. Tony hummed and got out of the car as the doctor bent to unlace his shoes.

“C’mon, open her up, we’ve got work to do; what, did _everyone_ wake up with a hangover this morning?” Bruce peered into the rear view mirror to see Tony gesturing at the idling truck crew. One of the latino gentlemen climbed up to lift the door, creating a loud rattle that echoed throughout the high-ceilinged hangar. The other two moved to drop the loading deck. “No, no, that’s not necessary; we’re good here,” Tony informed them, stepping in, “Go get some donuts and coffee or whatever, there should be some in the break room or something.” With that, the innovator hoisted himself up and into the back of the truck.

“Hombre blanco con dinero no sabe decidir,” one mover joked to the others as they walked by towards the hangar exit. Dr. Banner chuckled privately to himself.

A moment later he’d disrobed to satisfaction, and he got out of the Acura to meet Tony on the other side of the moving truck. “Wakey, wakey...!” he heard the engineer’s voice from inside the cargo compartment, “Hey. I said _get up_.” A resounding clang followed and finally Igor powered on, whirring to life. Bruce’s eyebrows lifted as the Mark-38 gripped the side of the truck for balance as it carefully stepped the four feet down and out of the truck, Tony following with a hop.

“You’re not wearing it?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“Nah,” the engineer remarked dismissively, “He runs on an AI. I _could_ get inside and do a manual over-ride, but no. No real need.” He lowered his voice and brought his hand to the side of his mouth as he leaned in, “I don’t need to be at the center of _everything_. Gosh, Bruce.”

The physicist just chuckled. “Yeah, okay.” He stared up at the behemoth of a robot, hunched but still towering above them both. “So, should I...?” he shrugged in lieu of saying it.

“Yeah, sure, whenever you’re ready,” Tony smiled obligingly, taking a couple steps back to give him room.

Bruce nodded. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the Hulk come to the surface on his out-breath. When he didn’t fight it... when he accepted it, _wanted_ it, it was a process that only took seconds to complete, a seamless transformation from man to monster. He felt his limbs stretching... thickening; ribs unfolding outward, spine lengthening, torso expanding. His consciousness receded into the background.

The Hulk breathed in and exhaled a soft snort, opening his eyes now that the change was complete. He was head-level with Igor now, able to look it right in the eyes. He looked down at Tony.

“I don’t think I’m _ever_ gonna get bored of watching that,” the innovator marveled with a delighted grin.

The Hulk’s lips pulled back into a massive grin at being complimented. “Hulk warm up,” he declared, stretching his arms out in front of him and interleaving his fingers together to get a flex through his back and shoulder blades.

“Oh, okay, yeah, you do that,” the engineer said smartly, “Don’t want you to pull anything. Hey, Igor.” The automation craned its head at him interestedly. “Yeah, why don’t you do the same? Warm up with something light.”

Igor made a noise of acknowledgement; it went over to the moving truck it had been transported in, going around to the side of it.

“JARVIS, start running data and gimme the play-by-play,” Tony leaned onto a hip with a smirk.

“At once, sir,” the AI responded from the control panel of the Acura.

The Hulk watched as Igor slid its mechanical hands into each wheel well. It lifted and the vehicle tilted, but not enough to tip it onto its side. The robot crouched in the space it had created beneath the truck and got one of its hands on the other side so it could balance the vehicle on its back. “Two axle moving truck, weighing in at 14,000 pounds, or seven tons, sir,” JARVIS supplied as Igor stood with ease and began doing several deep knee bends with the truck atop its back.

The Hulk rolled his eyes. He lackadaisically finished stretching his left arm across his chest and wandered over to the helicopter positioned not far away. He studied the two-propellered craft for the best angle to approach it without causing damage and then took hold of it by the back, giving a heft to toss it into the air a few feet above his head. He caught it across his shoulders, behind his head like a milkmaid’s yoke.

“Wow...” Tony mouthed at the grace displayed by that quick maneuver.

“CH-47 Chinook helicopter, weighing in at 33,000 pounds, or sixteen and a half tons,” came JARVIS’ cool intonation. The Hulk grinned and set the helicopter back down where he’d gotten it on its landing gear.

Igor seemed a bit insulted to not be getting his master’s attention. The robot whistled and dropped the truck it had still been holding, the shock absorbers squeaking. Tony wheeled in place to have a look. Mark-38 strode over to the next biggest thing: a stealth jet. Bowing underneath the wingspan in order to get a firm grasp on it, Igor then lifted, gears ratcheting in its knees to ensure it wouldn’t drop the valuable aircraft. When it had lifted it to its pinnacle, it gave an exuberant _bleep!_

“F-117A Nighthawk stealth aircraft, weighing in at 52,500 pounds, or approximately 26 tons,” JARVIS chimed gaily. Tony stroked his goatee, nodding approvingly.

The Hulk nodded as well, more impressed by this show of mechanical strength than the last. However, he didn’t dawdle, walking over to a tanker truck parked in the hangar. He turned his hand outward to rap his knuckles against the long cylindrical tank, listening to gauge the amount of fuel inside-- it was to capacity. Grinning, he took hold of the vehicle on either side of the hitch to support it so it wouldn’t come apart during the lift and put his back into it, raising it clean above his head like a barbell.

Tony’s mouth opened and closed and opened again.

“Sir. A tanker truck, whilst full, weighing in at 80,000 pounds, or forty tons.”

Igor gave a squeal of dismay at the spotlight yet again being stolen. It glanced about before setting its sights on a tank. With determination, it propped its right shoulder against the protruding cannon and hefted enough to get its fingers beneath the main body. The Hulk watched with subtle interest, not sure the comparatively small robot could manage on this challenge it had set for itself. Tony didn’t look super sure himself. “That’s it, Igor!” he encouraged anyway, clapping his hands, “You got this. Show him Daddy built you right.”

The motivation spurred the automation on, gears clattering in its elbows and shoulders as it slowly but surely lifted the front end of the tank. In much the way it had with the truck, Igor squeezed in beneath the tank and began lifting with its legs, balancing with its arms. The pistons hissed in protestation and nearly failed once, causing the tank to slip a few inches before the bot was able to regain control over it. The strain on the Mark-38 was evident, but against all odds, it managed to lift and hold the massive treaded all-terrain war vehicle.

“M-1 Abrams tank, weighing in at 134,000 pounds, or 67 tons,” JARVIS proclaimed.

“Well,” Tony looked over at the big green creature on his right smugly, “I guess it’s as strong as the Hulk after all, huh, big guy?”

The beast gave him a disbelieving look. He cracked his knuckles and sauntered over to Igor, who still had the tank held on its hunchback. Wrapping his arms around the robot’s midsection, he planted his feet and roared, driving upward with the strength in his thighs. Igor gave a squeak of alarm as it was lifted off its feet into the air like a ballerina.

“An M-1 Abrams tank, plus the Mark-38 comes to a total of 144,000 pounds, or 72 tons, sir.”

Tony dropped his forehead down into his palm.


End file.
